Title: Slight Temptation
Author: ScullyAsTrinity
Category: Angst, G/S
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Is there really a REASON for this anymore? I mean, come on.
Notes: Thanks to Lauren (TriplePirouette). She knows why. This is one of my first CSI fics, though I'm sure there will be many more.
Summary: A late night and a sigh.
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Just slightly, very, very slight. A quick glimpse.
That's all he really got. From time to time even. A quick, fast, life-long glimpse of her out of the corner of his eyes.
His peripheral vision was marvelous, so intense, just as intense as his head-on gaze was. And like his direct gaze, you could feel it on you, you could feel it when you were being watched by him. A tingle would rise up your back, and the hair would raise on your arms, and you'd make it seem like you were doing something absolutely dire, even if you were just eating a salad.
It was all relevant to him, every single breath, movement, sigh.
That was why this particular sigh took hold of him. Examining evidence, bent over a microscope, the lights dim, her brow knitted in deep concentration. Her eyes captivated by the specimen in front of her and yet she sighs, long and low.
Breathy and sexy and pained.
His ears perk up, and his eyes tear away from the data table he is analyzing and he stares at her. Her guard is down, as she brings her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose to squeeze. A grimace paints the once-serene face and she sighs again.
A tiny flutter crosses, hits synapses, settles in his stomach, floating around. The telltale eyebrow raised, and his lips purse just a bit more, finding a much more interesting subject to study.
Her eyes stay shut for a long while, the breath she emits coming in short pants. The short pants progress into long intakes... steady expiration. Chest rising and falling methodically, but hitching every so often to steady the axis of her world. She has forgotten that Grissom is in the room, which is saying something. Part of her axis has shifted off center, and she is so far gone that it becomes impossible to focus.
Slightly, somewhere inside of him, he is prompted to smile, happy to be privy to such a real display of human emotion. Another part wants to rush and cradle her. Yet another, wishes to feel her pain, if only to really know what it feels like to be that far in.
Her hands took the slide from under the objective and placed it rather harshly on the table in front of her. Her hands shook, lips quivered, but all she did was sigh.
He can see, he can see that emotion is real, whether coming from her or, or someone else under his supervision, in his species. But he can't tell why. He feels the hollowness in his chest but can't seem to place... can't discern...
A tongue emerges to wet dry lips and the skin screams at the moist contact. It triggers a slight sting in her eye that she bats away, that she rubs at. A sniffle, an arching of the back and a crack of the neck. They all make sounds in the stillness of the lab.
And then she remembers that he is seated in the same room, breathing the same air. Hearing the crack of her bones as they protest against the sudden movement. A neutral expression replaces the exasperation that has crossed her visage and she moves to face him as if she has known he was there the entire time.
"Bad slide. My head is killing me." Her quirky smile does nothing to displace the concern written in his brow, so she exaggerates it a bit. He knows that she's faking, and she knows that he knows but she doesn't care. She knows that he won't say anything relevant, anything more than the detached but intimate comments he has made in the past.
So she fakes it
"I'm just- my shift's been over for awhile so ah, I'mma head home." And her hair swirls to cover her face as she cleans up the mess she had made, The microscope is put back in it's proper place with care and he watches as she goes through the requisite movements. Fluid but rushed.
The lamp in her place is shut off, and her hands brush across the desk absentmindedly. He worries about broke cover slip shards for a moment before taking his eyes off her fingers and settling them on her face.
All he can summon is a broken word, one word that he doesn't want to say. He has much, much more to say, but he was never eloquent when it came to expressing emotion. So he says it...
"Night." And his eyes are slightly sad behind his glasses, but she pretends like she doesn't notice. Sara ducks her head and disappears out the door.
When temptation calls, they just look away.