Unbetaed... so bite me. :)
There was nothing in the world that compared to slipping between the cool sheets of your bed after a particularly trying day
There was nothing in the world that compared to slipping between the cool sheets of your bed after a particularly trying day. There was nothing better in the world than to slip between, cool, clean, sheets when the temperature outside was pushing one-ten.
That was Sara's entire intent as she trudged through the door of her (oh, thank goodness) blissfully cold apartment. Surprisingly, she'd remembered to lower the shades before she had left for the evening, and thus her living room was blanketed in cool darkness, the heavy purple curtains withstanding the powerful rays of the sun.
With a smile and a shrug, her shoulder bag landed on the floor and with one hand pressed to the wall for leverage, she toed off her shoes, kicking them into alignment against the wall.
Moving through the hallway, she reached her refrigerator and blindly searched inside for a bottle of water.
Sipping it eagerly, she made her way to the bathroom and without much regard for where they landed, pulled off her clothing. It was a practiced ritual, learned early on. She would step into the shower, adjust the temperature and envision the worries from the day sliding from her body; stepping out, she would feel cleansed, both mentally and physically. So when she'd found just the right temperature in the water, she stepped beneath the spray, closed her eyes and released a breath she felt as though she'd been harboring for years. Sounds of pounding water rushed past her ears and she ignored the voices in her head reminding her of this, telling her to do that. She ignored it all and taking a small loofah in hand, began scrubbing away at her skin with grapefruit cleanser.
It was odd, how such a mundane, menial part of being an animal-ritual cleaning-could serve as an anchor, as something that relieved stress and soothed the mind.
There was no reason to shave (plus, she didn't have the energy) and so, after she'd washed the soap from her skin, she picked up her bar of shampoo and began to massage her scalp. Thoughts attempted to circumvent the barriers that she mentally constructing, but she would not let them filter in. Sliding her nails along her scalp, Sara breathed deeply and felt, suddenly, a wave of lethargy pass over her body.
Her skin responded almost immediately, feeling as though it had shifted on her body, heating up, insulating her. The sound of the water amplified in her ears, and her eyes felt suddenly dry. Exhaustion hampered her movements from then on, and it was a chore to work conditioner through her tresses.
There was no energy that she could muster in order to dry her hair, and so when she stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around herself in an utterly-haphazard fashion, she simply made her way back into her bedroom. Donning a pair of ratty sleep shorts and a tank top that happened to be flung across the top of her dresser, she sat on the side of her bed.
With one more deep breath, she pressed back the covers and laid her body down upon the mattress. Her fingers curled around the edge of the sheets and she tugged them up over herself, wanting desperately to find respite in her bed for eight hours… at the very least.
Sara loved her job; she lived for it. Sometimes, however, sometimes it just took so much out of her, sapped her strength, made it a chore to make it to the end of the day. And it was today-days like this-that made her remember why a good night's sleep was so essential.
Her entire body relaxed against the softness, her skin drinking in the slip and slide of the cotton against her calves, her thighs. A cleansing sigh escaped from her lungs as she pressed her left hand up and underneath the pillow, pulling it to her head. Eyes easily slipping closed, the comforting darkness around her, she began to succumb to the sweet infinity of sleep.
The pads of her fingers worked themselves slowly over the fitted sheet beneath her as her mind worked on completely shutting down.
Just on the precipice, about to tumble off into solid, not-even-waking-up-to-pee sleep, there were very soft raps on what she could only assume was her front door.
Shifting onto her right side, she curled into herself, ignoring the offensive noise, assuming it was simply UPS once again mistaking her apartment for the next-door neighbor's.
But when the person knocked a little harder, Sara opened her eyes and… remembered: She and Grissom had made breakfast plans that previous evening.
Shit.
Clambering out of bed, body running on both adrenaline and embarrassment, she jogged to her front door and flung it open, not bothering with the peep hole. It hadn't entered her head to perhaps don a robe or put on slippers so there she stood before him, hair askew, stomach partially on display, legs peeking out from some inappropriately short shorts.
In one of his hands was a large bag, in the other, a cardboard tray with two cups in it; on his face was an amused smile. "I am so sorry!" she squeaked, "Come in, come in!"
Grissom chuckled as he passed by her, sneaking a glance at her legs before he turned towards the kitchen. "We can reschedule this for another day, if you'd like," he said, back turned to her as he pulled one of the cups from the holder. "It's not a problem."
Sara padded quickly in behind him and snatched up the other cup. "No, no, we planned on today and I just…" she opened the cover and blew across the surface, "Forgot. I was actually in… bed." Glancing down at her current attire, she blushed a bit, abandoning the coffee on the table. "Let me just go… change."
Before she could make her way into the hall, he reached out and touched her arm. "If you're comfortable in that… you should be comfortable," he amended at the last moment. "Don't change on my account."
Sara pursed her lips and raised a brow. "Yeah, well, I'm not exactly comfortable in front of you in my current attire; not yet, anyway." She smiled at him and with a shrug on his behalf, she returned to her bedroom to toss on a pair of loose workout pants and a sweatshirt.
When she returned to the living room, he'd unpacked the bag he'd brought with him. On the coffee table was a container of fruit salad, a bag of English muffins and something that looked suspiciously like… "Is that French toast?"
Popping open the cover on the Tupperware container, he winked at her. "This would indeed be… French toast."
A grin spread across her face as she walked over to the couch. "Alright, so maybe this is slightly better than sleep."
Almost immediately, his face fell. "You were sleeping? Oh I can, let's just do this another time." Launching into the process of repacking what he'd just unpacked, Sara reached over and stopped his hands.
She smiled, "Can't tease me with the prospect of French toast; you're not going anywhere." Playfully, she grabbed the container with the cinnamon toast and reopened it. "Oh, tell me this is homemade." Her eyes slid closed as she paused to inhale the lovely scent.
Releasing a large breath, he leaned back into the couch and simply watched her for a moment, assessing the look of pleasure on her face. To date, he'd kissed her seventeen times, touched the skin of her stomach three times and made to unclasp her bra exactly one, glorious time. They'd never gotten any further than foreplay, as the moment would always be interrupted; employment did have its drawbacks.
And so watching her, sitting right next to him, looking so lovely, he moved slowly to pluck the container out of her hand. Sara's eyes popped open in confusion, but softened when he wound a hand through her damp hair. "I like having breakfast with you," he mumbled with a smile and kissed her softly, his smile growing when she leaned into him, grasping his shoulders.
When they parted, she was just slightly tousled, wearing a dreamy sort of grin, still holding onto him. "I like having breakfast with you, too," she whispered back. "But stop trying to distract me from this wonderful bounty." Sliding her hand up the side of his neck, she released him and went about preparing a plate for each of them.
Once they had finished their ample breakfast-Sara had polished off three and a half thick pieces of the toast, topping them with various fruits-they both fell back against the couch.
"I feel… so full," she said at the birth of a yawn, curling closer to him when she was through. "Mmm, that was good, thank you."
"You're very welcome," Grissom responded, sliding his hand up onto her knee. "Though I think I'm as tired now as I'd imagine you are."
Drowsily, Sara hummed. "Hmmm, yeah." Glancing up at him under heavy lids, she blinked and smiled. "Let's go take a nap."
He glanced down at her, sluggishly. "A nap?" They'd shared much in the past few months, but they had yet to share a bed. But the hand that was on her knee was so warm, (longed to slide up to her thigh, to her…) and she was so adorably sleepy that he found himself smiling lazily and following her to her bedroom.
Quickly divesting her pants and sweatshirt, she clambered up onto the bed and hunkered down between the sheets, throwing her body around in order to make room for him. But Grissom just stood there, eying her in disbelief. "Come on," she hastened but caught him glancing down at his attire a little uncomfortably.
"Boxers or briefs," she asked, trying to keep the quiver from her voice.
"Sara, I hardly-"
With a shrug of her shoulders, she laid back against the pillows, gathering the covers that she had pulled back in invitation and smoothing them back over the side of the bed. "Alright."
Shifting his feet awkwardly, he bit out, "Boxers," and waited for her to respond.
Again, she pulled back the sheets and gazed up at him, "Let's see 'em."
It was very quiet for a moment, the only real sound the persistent hum of the central air conditioning. "Let me help get you started," Sara whispered and rose up on her knees, making her way over towards him. "You can't sleep in slacks now, can you?" And with that her hands were on his belt, pulling the thick leather through the buckle. She left the rest to him, falling back onto the mattress with a light, "Ooomph."
With a roll of his eyes and a bashful little smile, he undid his pants and divested himself of both his shoes and his socks. Lastly, he allowed his pants to pool at his feet, stepping out of them and folding them, placing them on a nearby chair.
Sara watched the entire process, nearly giggling at the meticulous care he gave his clothing. Moving over to the bed, he sat, sliding his legs up and on while Sara tossed the covers over him.
Together they lay back, staring up at the ceiling. "Are you really going to be able to fall asleep in that shirt?" came her amused whisper, though she didn't turn to look at him. Slyly, Sara snuck her hand up across his chest, up the buttons of his neat oxford shirt and lingered at his neck.
In the dulled light of the room, he turned his face towards her… and blinked.
Pursing her lips, she raised a brow, meeting his challenge. "I don't know about you but I'm very. Sleepy."A shimmy of her hips and she was on her left side, her back to him. It took a moment but she heard some rustling and a few muted curses before he settled in behind her, thumb sliding against her waist.
The smile that slid onto her lips was giddy, and just as she had promised her eyes closed as she attempted sleep (though her stomach was all aflutter). But then, so smoothly, his fingers began moving meandering beneath the hem of her shirt.
A warm breath puffed across her ear, just before he said, "Goodnight, sweetheart." It was so reverent and sweet and she knew she heard no trace of slumber in his voice. And she could imagine him, right then and there, lying next to her…
Like that, she brought her hand up to twine with his on her hip. Her voice was almost indiscernible when she said, "Gil?"
"Hmmm?" he hummed, lips in her hair. Her body slid against his briefly as she turned over, until they were face to face, lips millimeters apart.
Eyes closed, she smiled dreamily, "I'm really glad I didn't fall asleep earlier."
A little chuckle escaped him as he reached out and wrapped her up in his arms, "Me too."
"I'm glad I'm falling asleep now… tho…though."
"Me too."
They slept, together.