A/N: so, I was tired of Grissom being a pain in the
you-know-what, so I wrote this; I have absolutely no idea whatsoever
where it came from, because I DO NOT support this 'ship at ALL. Kinda
weird, but whatever. Personally, I think it sucks crap, but I figured
'what the heck? maybe someone else will.' So please, read and
review- even if you think it's terrible. -shay
You're Too Late
"Gil, I don't know what the hell your problem is, but if you aren't going to do anything about it, I will." Brass's tone was final.
Grissom blinked. "Uh, Jim-"
"I'm serious, Gil." The detective's expression concurred with his statement. "I have waited for you to make a move on her for five years. I'm done waiting." He stood up.
"Jim-" Grissom also stood up. "What do you want me to say?" his ice-blue eyes were cool. "Do you want my permission?" Brass could hear the sarcasm on his last word.
"You know what?" he was angry now. "I don't want your damn permission, Gil, in fact, I don't want to know what you think at all." Brass strode out of his friend's office without another word.
"Sara." He caught her arm, considering himself downright lucky that she was walking by just then.
"Uh, hi." Sara looked surprised but didn't comment. "What's up?"
"Umm, are you free to have dinner with me tonight?" Brass blurted before he lost his nerve.
"Sure, I'd love to."
"Great." He exhaled heavily and realized he was still holding her arm. He blushed. "Can I pick you up at seven?"
Sara squeezed his hand and smiled at him. "See you then." She winked at him and sauntered away.
A warm tingly feeling spread through him, from the tips of his fingers to his toes, and he shuddered, almost with giddiness. I have a date with Sara Sidle.
He glanced behind him into the window of Grissom's office. The slightly older man was staring at him with a shocked expression on his face.
You're too late, Gil, the detective thought, forcing himself to look away. You're too late.