eTitle: Hiding Places
Author: Ann
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Only their OOC actions are my own.
Summary: A party proves to be eventful. G/S.
***My betas are either sick, MIA, or busy, so I'm flying solo tonight. *wink* All errors are my own. This is a response to the Unbound challenge. First and last lines are given. Most people know the drill by now. I went over my word limit again, blah, blah, forgive me, blah, blah, blah... I thank everyone who has read and/or reviewed...it means a great deal to me. To those of you who have e-mailed me asking if I planned on doing anything longer than these challenges(thank you for your interest, btw), the answer is yes. I have been working on a lengthy fic for quite a while now. It's NC-17, so will probably not be on ff.net. I will try to keep you posted via these challenges.
Bunching up her wedding dress, Sara climbed out the window.
"Greg, I cannot believe your car doors don't open...this is really ridiculous."
"Speak for yourself. Most chicks think it's cool. It's got that 'Dukes of Hazzard' vibe to it, don't ya think?"
"Whatever you say. Whose idea was it to have a costume party in the middle of Spring, again? This thing is hot," Sara grunted, finally maneuvering herself all the way out of Greg's compact vehicle and smoothing the wrinkles out of her short wedding gown.
"It's a "morale booster"," Greg quoted, curling his fingers to emphasize his words. "Personally, I think it's cool. We didn't even get to have a costume party around Halloween. And that Christmas party was a farce. This is my chance to shine," he sang excitedly, straightening out the cardboard box surrounding his body.
When Sara had first caught sight of the 'Kissing Booth' sign plastered to the cardboard, she had giggled uncontrollably. The bright red lip marks plastered to his face were starting to smear now. She was briefly curious as to who planted those seemingly sloppy kisses all over his cheeks, but believed it best to not ask. Frankly, she was almost positive that she didn't want to know.
Sara was saved from frightening images by Greg pointing with exaggerating motions to the "Kisses $1.00" that was written shoddily across the chest of his t-shirt.
"Sorry, Greg. No pockets," she shrugged, feeling down her sides to prove that her dress, indeed, had no where to store that fee .
"Perhaps I should have just thrown on a tuxedo and came to this little shin- dig as your counterpart. Then, you could have gotten all of the free kisses that you wanted...from your groom. Too bad that I lent my only tux to my cousin."
Thank God for small favors. "This dress was the cheapest thing at the thrift shop, so don't get your hopes up. Strictly platonic, remember?"
When Greg had first approached her about attending this party with him, she was very skeptical. Number one: she had no desire to go. And number two: she didn't want any agreement on her part to lead him on. After many convincing arguments regarding the fun this get-together might entail, and much reassurance on his part that this would be nothing more than a "friendly date", she reluctantly agreed to attend. She hadn't heard anyone else talking about going, so she assumed that she would be free from the torment that might ensue from being seen showing up with Greg Sanders.
So much for that assumption.
'Pirate Nick', 'Vampire Warrick', and 'Princess Catherine' stood at the landing by the front door, grinning widely and waving furiously.
Shit.
"Are you ready, my beautiful bride?" Greg cooed, holding out his arm for her to latch onto.
She passed and swiftly made her way up the steps, knowing she was in for a long night.
After mild teasing and a bit of small talk, the group made their way inside. Everyone headed off to the right, except Sara. Meeting Brass's eyes from across the room, she promised them she'd catch up later and headed in his direction. Catching a glimpse of the priest's collar adorning his neck, she broke out into a wide grin.
"There's something about you dressed as a priest that's gotta be a sin."
"There are more similarities between me and a priest as of late than I'd care to admit."
"Too much information, Brass."
"I can empathize." Sara practically jumped back when she saw the face attached to the voice speaking. Grissom. The thought that he might be here never even crossed her mind. Wait. He empathized? With who? Her or Brass? She shook the thoughts from her head, realizing that she didn't care anymore. Well, that was a blatant lie...but she had been doing such a good job of pretending lately. She needed to keep that act up.
As her shock at seeing him began wearing off, another new shock set in. Sara looked him up and down, coming to grips with the fact that he was actually wearing a costume. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought of this. Well...maybe her wildest.
He was wearing a pair of worn blue jeans and what looked to be a pale yellow polo shirt. It was hard to distinguish the color through the red blood splatter that covered a large portion of it. The top of his head was wrapped in thick gauze, also drenched with what looked very much like blood. In the crook of his arm, he held a jar labeled "Brain Donor". Sara was impressed by his subtle creativity.
"That's, uh, not real is it, Grissom?"
"The blood or the brain?"
"Either!"
Brass laughed. "I asked him the same thing."
"Nope. Arrowroot, red powder paint, and coffee grounds mixed with water for the blood. The brain is just cauliflower in that same mixture. Looks quite authentic, doesn't it?" he asked proudly.
Brass rolled his eyes, and Sara touched a bit on his sleeve and stared at her finger. "Not bad," she rated.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. She met his gaze and was trapped in the seriousness she found there. He looked her up and down--much like she had done him, but without the humor she guessed had been in her appraisal. "You look..."
"Gorgeous." Brass broke several seconds of awkward silence with his compliment. He looked back and forth between the two, not knowing whether to give them time alone or stay to play referee.
Grissom nodded slowly in agreement, embarrassed to have been rendered speechless in front of an audience.
Another bout of uncomfortable silence fell upon the three, and Sara took that as her cue to mosey along.
"Well, I'm going to go get something to drink. If I don't see you before I go, I hope you both have a great evening."
Sara leaned against the wall, sipping punch and crowd gazing, for several minutes. She chuckled as Greg waved at her from the dance floor. He was attempting to dance with a 'mermaid' that Sara wasn't sure she recognized. She waved back, content that he was having a good time.
"Don't forget what you promised me in the car," he shouted from the dance floor. She raised her eyebrows in question. "That you'll dance with me before the evening's over," he reminded. Only when she nodded, laughing, was he content to resume dancing with his fishy lady friend.
"You came with him?"
Sara spun around quickly, surprised by the husky voice behind her. Cursing herself for letting just his voice make her pulse react, she took a deep breath. She had decided earlier that if anyone were to confront her with that question, she would set them straight immediately. An inner-office party would be nothing more than a breeding ground for rumors. But, what business was it of Grissom's, of all people? She smiled and huffed a "yep" before rushing towards a door she had spied earlier, praying that it led outside. She definitely needed some air.
Sara had spotted a quaint little gazebo a little ways from the back door. She threw herself onto the wooden seating area, jerked the small flowers from her hair, and rested her head on the ledge behind her, intent on relaxing for a moment.
"I figured that eventually I would have to chase you, but never predicted that it would be literally." Grissom placed his jarred brain on the bench in front of her, but surprised her by sitting right next to her, taking a moment to catch his breath.
"What are you doing?"
"I don't know yet. I rarely do anything without thinking it through. I had not planned on wooing you this evening, so you may have to cut me some slack here."
Sara turned to face him, mouth agape, wondering if he was playing a cruel joke on her. The fake blood oozing down the side of his face did nothing to alleviate her makeshift theory of this perhaps being a giant hoax.
"What is wrong with you?" She asked accusingly, but without rancor.
His face held no immediate reaction, so she asked again. Before she could get the full question out, his lips were on hers. It was nothing more than a peck, but rapid heart rates and erratic breathing resulted for both.
"You have lost your mind," Sara blurted out as soon as the contact was broken.
"Well," he drawled out, leaning his head towards the brain sitting across from them. A small grin crept upon his lips.
"You are so not funny." The smile pulling at the corners of her mouth contradicted her words. She had absolutely no clue what the hell was going on. It was almost as if they had entered some sort of twilight zone
"There are so many things I need to explain to you. So many," he breathed out. "But, right now I...I just—"
This time she initiated the kiss. The hunger in his eyes had rivaled her own, and she couldn't deny it any longer. The intensity in which every feeling she ever had for this man flowed back frightened her. But the intensity in which he seemed to be returning those feelings excited her. When he moaned and slid his tongue past her lips, Sara decided it best to live for the moment. Grissom pulled her closer as he suckled and nipped at her lips, gradually bringing them down from the high of their kisses.
"I promised Greg a dance tonight. If I don't show soon, he'll be looking for me."
"That wasn't exactly the reaction I was hoping for."
"I'm not sure I'm comfortable giving you that kind of reaction outdoors," she admitted suggestively, wrapping her arms around his back to assure him that she was content.
He groaned into her neck, holding her in his possessive embrace. "Last time we saw Greg he was having a good time. Can't you just feign forgetfulness?"
"Mm...he'll probably hunt me down."
"Can't find you if we hide...," he mumbled.
She laughed. "Someone's bound to come across us here. Where do you propose we hide?"
He stood, tugging on her arms for her to follow. After walking a few yards, he spread his arms as if the solution were obvious. She looked up at the massive oak tree before them. The trunk was larger than the both of them standing side by side.
The perfect hiding place.
Grissom leaned into her, pinning her between his body and the trunk, and continued his welcome assault. Sara hummed when he caught her ear between his teeth, allowing his tongue to slip behind the sensitive lobe.
"I love trees."
Author: Ann
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Only their OOC actions are my own.
Summary: A party proves to be eventful. G/S.
***My betas are either sick, MIA, or busy, so I'm flying solo tonight. *wink* All errors are my own. This is a response to the Unbound challenge. First and last lines are given. Most people know the drill by now. I went over my word limit again, blah, blah, forgive me, blah, blah, blah... I thank everyone who has read and/or reviewed...it means a great deal to me. To those of you who have e-mailed me asking if I planned on doing anything longer than these challenges(thank you for your interest, btw), the answer is yes. I have been working on a lengthy fic for quite a while now. It's NC-17, so will probably not be on ff.net. I will try to keep you posted via these challenges.
Bunching up her wedding dress, Sara climbed out the window.
"Greg, I cannot believe your car doors don't open...this is really ridiculous."
"Speak for yourself. Most chicks think it's cool. It's got that 'Dukes of Hazzard' vibe to it, don't ya think?"
"Whatever you say. Whose idea was it to have a costume party in the middle of Spring, again? This thing is hot," Sara grunted, finally maneuvering herself all the way out of Greg's compact vehicle and smoothing the wrinkles out of her short wedding gown.
"It's a "morale booster"," Greg quoted, curling his fingers to emphasize his words. "Personally, I think it's cool. We didn't even get to have a costume party around Halloween. And that Christmas party was a farce. This is my chance to shine," he sang excitedly, straightening out the cardboard box surrounding his body.
When Sara had first caught sight of the 'Kissing Booth' sign plastered to the cardboard, she had giggled uncontrollably. The bright red lip marks plastered to his face were starting to smear now. She was briefly curious as to who planted those seemingly sloppy kisses all over his cheeks, but believed it best to not ask. Frankly, she was almost positive that she didn't want to know.
Sara was saved from frightening images by Greg pointing with exaggerating motions to the "Kisses $1.00" that was written shoddily across the chest of his t-shirt.
"Sorry, Greg. No pockets," she shrugged, feeling down her sides to prove that her dress, indeed, had no where to store that fee .
"Perhaps I should have just thrown on a tuxedo and came to this little shin- dig as your counterpart. Then, you could have gotten all of the free kisses that you wanted...from your groom. Too bad that I lent my only tux to my cousin."
Thank God for small favors. "This dress was the cheapest thing at the thrift shop, so don't get your hopes up. Strictly platonic, remember?"
When Greg had first approached her about attending this party with him, she was very skeptical. Number one: she had no desire to go. And number two: she didn't want any agreement on her part to lead him on. After many convincing arguments regarding the fun this get-together might entail, and much reassurance on his part that this would be nothing more than a "friendly date", she reluctantly agreed to attend. She hadn't heard anyone else talking about going, so she assumed that she would be free from the torment that might ensue from being seen showing up with Greg Sanders.
So much for that assumption.
'Pirate Nick', 'Vampire Warrick', and 'Princess Catherine' stood at the landing by the front door, grinning widely and waving furiously.
Shit.
"Are you ready, my beautiful bride?" Greg cooed, holding out his arm for her to latch onto.
She passed and swiftly made her way up the steps, knowing she was in for a long night.
After mild teasing and a bit of small talk, the group made their way inside. Everyone headed off to the right, except Sara. Meeting Brass's eyes from across the room, she promised them she'd catch up later and headed in his direction. Catching a glimpse of the priest's collar adorning his neck, she broke out into a wide grin.
"There's something about you dressed as a priest that's gotta be a sin."
"There are more similarities between me and a priest as of late than I'd care to admit."
"Too much information, Brass."
"I can empathize." Sara practically jumped back when she saw the face attached to the voice speaking. Grissom. The thought that he might be here never even crossed her mind. Wait. He empathized? With who? Her or Brass? She shook the thoughts from her head, realizing that she didn't care anymore. Well, that was a blatant lie...but she had been doing such a good job of pretending lately. She needed to keep that act up.
As her shock at seeing him began wearing off, another new shock set in. Sara looked him up and down, coming to grips with the fact that he was actually wearing a costume. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought of this. Well...maybe her wildest.
He was wearing a pair of worn blue jeans and what looked to be a pale yellow polo shirt. It was hard to distinguish the color through the red blood splatter that covered a large portion of it. The top of his head was wrapped in thick gauze, also drenched with what looked very much like blood. In the crook of his arm, he held a jar labeled "Brain Donor". Sara was impressed by his subtle creativity.
"That's, uh, not real is it, Grissom?"
"The blood or the brain?"
"Either!"
Brass laughed. "I asked him the same thing."
"Nope. Arrowroot, red powder paint, and coffee grounds mixed with water for the blood. The brain is just cauliflower in that same mixture. Looks quite authentic, doesn't it?" he asked proudly.
Brass rolled his eyes, and Sara touched a bit on his sleeve and stared at her finger. "Not bad," she rated.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. She met his gaze and was trapped in the seriousness she found there. He looked her up and down--much like she had done him, but without the humor she guessed had been in her appraisal. "You look..."
"Gorgeous." Brass broke several seconds of awkward silence with his compliment. He looked back and forth between the two, not knowing whether to give them time alone or stay to play referee.
Grissom nodded slowly in agreement, embarrassed to have been rendered speechless in front of an audience.
Another bout of uncomfortable silence fell upon the three, and Sara took that as her cue to mosey along.
"Well, I'm going to go get something to drink. If I don't see you before I go, I hope you both have a great evening."
Sara leaned against the wall, sipping punch and crowd gazing, for several minutes. She chuckled as Greg waved at her from the dance floor. He was attempting to dance with a 'mermaid' that Sara wasn't sure she recognized. She waved back, content that he was having a good time.
"Don't forget what you promised me in the car," he shouted from the dance floor. She raised her eyebrows in question. "That you'll dance with me before the evening's over," he reminded. Only when she nodded, laughing, was he content to resume dancing with his fishy lady friend.
"You came with him?"
Sara spun around quickly, surprised by the husky voice behind her. Cursing herself for letting just his voice make her pulse react, she took a deep breath. She had decided earlier that if anyone were to confront her with that question, she would set them straight immediately. An inner-office party would be nothing more than a breeding ground for rumors. But, what business was it of Grissom's, of all people? She smiled and huffed a "yep" before rushing towards a door she had spied earlier, praying that it led outside. She definitely needed some air.
Sara had spotted a quaint little gazebo a little ways from the back door. She threw herself onto the wooden seating area, jerked the small flowers from her hair, and rested her head on the ledge behind her, intent on relaxing for a moment.
"I figured that eventually I would have to chase you, but never predicted that it would be literally." Grissom placed his jarred brain on the bench in front of her, but surprised her by sitting right next to her, taking a moment to catch his breath.
"What are you doing?"
"I don't know yet. I rarely do anything without thinking it through. I had not planned on wooing you this evening, so you may have to cut me some slack here."
Sara turned to face him, mouth agape, wondering if he was playing a cruel joke on her. The fake blood oozing down the side of his face did nothing to alleviate her makeshift theory of this perhaps being a giant hoax.
"What is wrong with you?" She asked accusingly, but without rancor.
His face held no immediate reaction, so she asked again. Before she could get the full question out, his lips were on hers. It was nothing more than a peck, but rapid heart rates and erratic breathing resulted for both.
"You have lost your mind," Sara blurted out as soon as the contact was broken.
"Well," he drawled out, leaning his head towards the brain sitting across from them. A small grin crept upon his lips.
"You are so not funny." The smile pulling at the corners of her mouth contradicted her words. She had absolutely no clue what the hell was going on. It was almost as if they had entered some sort of twilight zone
"There are so many things I need to explain to you. So many," he breathed out. "But, right now I...I just—"
This time she initiated the kiss. The hunger in his eyes had rivaled her own, and she couldn't deny it any longer. The intensity in which every feeling she ever had for this man flowed back frightened her. But the intensity in which he seemed to be returning those feelings excited her. When he moaned and slid his tongue past her lips, Sara decided it best to live for the moment. Grissom pulled her closer as he suckled and nipped at her lips, gradually bringing them down from the high of their kisses.
"I promised Greg a dance tonight. If I don't show soon, he'll be looking for me."
"That wasn't exactly the reaction I was hoping for."
"I'm not sure I'm comfortable giving you that kind of reaction outdoors," she admitted suggestively, wrapping her arms around his back to assure him that she was content.
He groaned into her neck, holding her in his possessive embrace. "Last time we saw Greg he was having a good time. Can't you just feign forgetfulness?"
"Mm...he'll probably hunt me down."
"Can't find you if we hide...," he mumbled.
She laughed. "Someone's bound to come across us here. Where do you propose we hide?"
He stood, tugging on her arms for her to follow. After walking a few yards, he spread his arms as if the solution were obvious. She looked up at the massive oak tree before them. The trunk was larger than the both of them standing side by side.
The perfect hiding place.
Grissom leaned into her, pinning her between his body and the trunk, and continued his welcome assault. Sara hummed when he caught her ear between his teeth, allowing his tongue to slip behind the sensitive lobe.
"I love trees."