Not mine. But I did make up the bit about Nick.
For Remoob1513, as promised.
……
Sara was on her way home after pulling a triple, thanks to a homicide case that kept turning out more and more bodies, when Catherine was coming in, photos from the swing shift and graveyard shift's latest gathering in hand.
"Hey. Hold on a sec." Catherine flipped through the packet, and pulled out a photograph, handing it to Sara. "Nick is a magician with a camera, huh?" Sara accepted the snapshot, pulling her arms through her jacket. She smiled as she recognized the image.
"Yeah. He minored in photography in college. Obviously got A's."
"Thought you might want that one." Catherine let the smile creep over her face. "He's good for you. You look happy." Sara drew her gaze from the photograph, and smiled at her coworker.
"I am. We are." Sara grinned widely. "Thank you for this." She tucked the photo into her bag, and shut her locker. "I'm out, this is my fourth triple shift this week." She stopped at the door to the hallway. "Give Nick my thanks when he comes in." Catherine nodded absently, and made her way to the break room to hang up the rest of the roll on the wall.
………
Sara made her way into her apartment, hanging up her coat, leaving her bag on the coffee table while she showered and changed into a pair of Greg's boxers and Greg's chess team sweatshirt from college. The soft cotton of the hem and cuffs were worn and frayed, softly tickling her skin. She flopped onto the couch, folding her legs beneath her, and leaning over to pull an ordinary, 4x6 frame from the drugstore plastic bag. She dug into her workbag, retrieving the photograph from the pocket.
She felt ridiculous at first, this ritual every time one of them came across a photograph of them together. Now, however, with their makeshift mantle full of mostly Nick's camera work, she treasured the moments when she was able to add to their collection, but they fell second to the moments captured on the film.
Nick, lately, had been on a black and white kick, and the image in her hand was no exception to his latest trend. She slipped the photo into the frame, and set it on the coffee table to admire her work. Greg was going to think she was crazy. She had never cared about relics of this sort in her relationship with Hank, and she had no photographs of her college boyfriends either. Greg was a different sort of boyfriend though; and this was a different sort of love.
The new photo in the plain black frame had been taken a few weeks ago; when both shifts, plus Brass and Sofia, had met for breakfast after the foil of an all hands on deck case involving one of the city councilmen and his mistress. The image was of Sara and Greg, sitting at the counter at their favorite diner, kitty cornered from the camera, Warrick leaned over on Sara's side, caught in avid discussion with Sofia, who was laughing on the other side of Greg. In the center, however, pulled into shaper focus than Warrick of Sofia was Sara and Greg. Greg had his arm thrown casually around her shoulders; she had leaned over him to reach the sugar for her coffee. His other hand, she remembered, had pulled her leg into his lap, but the camera hadn't captured that thanks to the counter. His eyes were downcast, inwardly focused on her body. Her forehead touched his jaw line, and the expression on her face made her grin widely.
Nick had caught the busy movement of the diner, but had made a still life out of her and Greg. She was glad he had a rich background in photography; most of the photos on their shelf were from his camera. He had a way of making their relationship feel real, committed. Nick's photographs were tangible evidence that they were happy together, and as a scientist, these photographs put her at ease. In the last two months since what they referred to as their first date, Nick had started to give either of them assortments of images he snapped here and there.
It had started when Catherine had mentioned as they processed evidence from a crime scene of a missing child, where the mother had no recent photos of her daughter to give Brass, that she didn't have any photographs of Lindsey that were up to date. Nick had just casually stated that he used to study photography in college, and used to take portraits of school children to pay for books. Catherine had flashed a grin his way, and he agreed to take a few pictures of Lindsey to ease her 65 hours a week overworked single mother mind.
When the photographs were developed, however, Catherine had gotten misty, and kissed Nick, they were so beautiful. Nick could have easily been a professional photographer, the kind that had fancy galleries and shows, and whose work often ended up in museums years after they died. With the rest of the team's encouragement, Nick had picked up his old camera again, and had recently bought a newer model, which had become an appendage to his person when not at work. Photographs went up on the wall and on the fridge of the break room in the following weeks, as Nick rediscovered his second love in life, after science.
Sara glanced up at their 'mantle,' smiling at the assortment of photos that were in color, and black and white, some artistically developed, some professionally processed like their newest edition. The story of their romance had been played out right before Nick's lens, and she was suddenly thankful that he had such a talent.
She heard Greg's keys in the lock of her door, and watched as it swung open, and he entered the tiny apartment.
"Hey." He grinned at her, setting his jacket and bag down beside hers.
"Hi. How did it go?" Greg had spent the last few hours at court with Grissom, presenting evidence in his first case to a jury.
"Good. Perp got 25 to life, based on our presentation of the evidence. Thank God for Gris, though, I was way nervous." He loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the collar of his oxford shirt to reveal the Grateful Dead concert tee shirt underneath. He drooped a kiss on her waiting lips, and flopped down on the couch beside her, kicking off his shoes. "That's a good one, huh?" He nodded toward the new photo in Sara's hands.
"Yeah, Catherine picked up the roll on her way in to work." She handed Greg the frame, and watched him, as he looked closer at the image. He broke into a grin, chuckling to himself.
"What?" She leaned in, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him. "What's funny?"
"I remember what we did after this."
"Mind in the gutter."
"Sorry, blame the XY."
"I," She snatched the photo out of his hands, and stood. "Happen to like your Y chromosome, Mr. Sanders." She placed the frame towards the end of the haphazardly assembled row of photographs.
"Well I like your whole double helix, Sara Jane."
"Yeah that'll make me hot." She turned back to the couch, and Greg had sprawled out, taking up the whole of the couch with his long legs.
"Has before." He let out a yawn, and curled up to the throw pillow. "Come cuddle with me." He whined, like a small child asking to be picked up. She smiled at him, and crossed the room back to the couch. He tossed the pillow on the floor, and slid his arms around her waist and under her legs, using her thigh as a pillow. She felt him relax as her fingers found the nape of his neck, twirling in the waves of hair. After a few moments she spoke.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah, just missed you today."
"I missed you too." She leaned against the armrest of the couch, small smile curving her lip as he snuggled closer to her, his fingers resting on her hips. "We're going to need another mantle soon."
"Mmhmm." His affirmative tumbled through her thigh, settling heat in the center of her pelvis. "Nick is nuts with that camera these days." His breath was warm on her hip, through the thin fabric of the old boxers she wore. "It's nice though, every time I look at those pictures, they tell our story."
"We look happy."
"We are." Greg sat up, and pressed his lips to hers slowly and lightly.
"Tell me our story, Gregory." He grinned at her like a child, and climbed roughly off her lap. She pulled the throw blanket over her bare legs, and turned her attention toward her boyfriend, who looked even sexier with his hair rumpled, still in his suit, minus the jacket. He stood in front of the shelf, hand on his hip. He fluttered his fingers above a few of the frames, and picked one up, on the other side of the shelf from the newest photo.
"This one is probably my favorite. Nick took this right after he shot all those photos of Lindsey, just to finish the roll." He held up one of the first frames they had put on that shelf, depicting him and Sara seated at opposite ends of the interrogation table, notes from a case spread out in front of them. It was, unbeknownst to Nick, the interrogation after Greg had kissed her in the layout room for the first time, and he had caught them in a moment where they were looking at each other, perhaps discussing their arrest, he couldn't remember. "This was right after I kissed you, and right before we came back here and did," he paused for dramatic affect, continuing in a stage whisper, "unspeakable things." She grinned widely, and snuggled into his old sweatshirt. "Of which, I am glad that there are no photos of, by the way." He set down the photo, taken from the other side of the two-way mirror, and stood on his tiptoes to make his next selection.
"This one here," He plucked out one of Nick's crazy artistically developed ones, that he had created while fooling around with the dark room and exposure times. Nick had captured them walking hand in hand down the street from the diner, and had done something to the paper to create darker, thicker outlines. "I just like it, really, Nick went crazy with the dark room, but he made the lab and the diner and the street and Las Vegas fall away, and all that's left is me and you, and that's how it should be. Just us." He placed it back on the shelf and moved down a few inches, deciding on his next pick.
"Hrmm. Oh! This one." He picked up a color photo; one developed at a one-hour lab, and held it out. In it Sara was sitting on the stonewall enclosing one of the fountains downtown, Greg was standing a ways away in front of her, hands on his hips, smirking at her. Strangers were walking all around them, but neither of them saw anything but the other person.
Sara cocked an eyebrow at Greg, prompting him to explain his choice. "Can't you see it?" He looked at her like she had just sprouted wings. "Look closer." He brought the frame to her, and she peered at the image, taken about six weeks ago. This was one they had asked Nick to take. She looked up at Greg, still no idea why he favored this photo. He sighed impatiently at her, and rolled his eyes. "When I see you, the world stops spinning, and everything else is a blur. Like the strangers on the street. I can't see them, I can only see you."
She felt the tears well up in her eyes, and quickly dabbed at them with the cuff of his sweatshirt. He chuckled, fully amused, and bent to kiss her.
"You're a sap, Sara Jane."
"You're the sap, Gregory." He turned and placed the frame back on the shelf, rubbing his hands together, scanning the photos for his next selection.
"You love me for it."
"Yeah ok."
"I'm more than just a tempting Y chromosome, love. I have feelings." She laughed, and he grinned at her. "Laughing at your beloved is never nice, Sara."
"Making your girlfriend cry is never nice either, loser." He feigned emotional hurt, and shot her puppy eyes.
"Names!"
"Psst. Sticks and stones." She countered, dismissing his theatrics.
"Fine, fine, fine. One more." He spun, and stepped back, considering his choices carefully. "Oh, going to have to go with Nick's sneaky voyeurism." He picked off the shelf, from the back, up against the wall. It was a gorgeous shot of the locker room, with the early morning sunlight filtering through the windows near the ceiling, casting a block of sunshine on Greg, sitting on the bench in the middle of the row of lockers, and Sara straddling his lap, resting her forehead against his. Both were still clad in their vests, having just wrapped a difficult case. The two of them were silhouetted against the early morning Nevada sunshine, taking a moment for them to regroup before, as she remembered it, going to Greg's apartment and falling asleep almost immediately.
"I forgot about that one." She laid her head on the armrest and held her hand out to Greg, who smiled at her, and placed the frame back in it's hidden spot, and walked across the room to her, taking her hand in his. He gently nudged her over, and sat on the couch, laying her head in his lap. She lounged across his knees, and felt her eyelids droop as he ran his fingers through her hair in soft, gently rhythmic strokes.
"What I love about the locker room photo is that it makes you look like an angel." She felt him laugh to himself. "I know that's corny, but the sunshine makes you look so beautiful, and I'm just so glad that you picked me." She pressed a kiss to his thigh before sitting up and facing him.
"I love you." She smiled earnestly. "You know that, right?" She tilted her head, tangling her fingers in his, in her lap.
"Yeah I know that. Je t'aime toujours." He leaned in, and she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Do you like our story, Sara?" He glanced toward their 'mantle,' grinning. "I think it's romantic."
"It suits us just fine." She lay back on the couch, pulling Greg on top of her. Her fingers fell to the buttons down the front of his shirt. "Thank you." A confused expression came over his face, as he settled in with her legs around him, leaning over her.
"For what?"
"For picking me, for letting me love you, for making me laugh." He pressed a kiss to her jaw line, and she giggled as his five o'clock shadow scratched against her skin. "For never letting me sleep alone, for making me breakfast on my birthday, for making me live when I thought I had missed my chance."
"Woman, Grissom is a smart man, a genius even. But nobody's perfect, and for that, I'm thankful." He pressed his lips to hers roughly and possessively for a moment before pulling away, and climbing off her. "Let's make some food, I'm hungry." She groaned, but followed him into the kitchen as he found the pancake batter. "Get the milk, will you?"
She retrieved the milk from the fridge, setting it on the counter for Greg before hopping up and sitting on an empty space. She leaned back on the hanging cabinets, content to observe him start mixing batter in a bowl. He tossed her a boyish grin, and dumped some of the milk into the batter.
"What?" He studied her for a moment. "You've got that look about you like I've accidentally mishandled evidence again." Sara cracked a smile, hugging her knees to her chest on the counter.
"No, I was just thinking, is all."
"Bout what?"
"That you are going to get your nice clothes all messy, and I'm not in the mood to do laundry." He grinned at her, and shed his dress pants and oxford shirt in one fluid motion, leaving him standing in her kitchen in a worn Grateful Dead tee shirt and navy boxers.
"Better?" He turned back to the bowl and jabbed at the clumps in the batter with a wooden spoon.
"You are something else, Gregory."
"And you are something special, Sara Jane."
………
A/N: Quirky, I know, but came to me in the darkroom, and after watching an episode with Nick taking about four thousand crime scene photos. Every man looks sexier taking photos, and George Eads is no exception. However, Greg Sanders is still the man.