Question Time
Author: wobbear
Rating: T
Disclaimer: If I owned them, would I be doing this?
Author's note: Set after Law of Gravity 7x10. Short and silly. I'm practicing ahead of writing a proper fic.
Summary: Sara asks questions we've all asked before. Answers are few, and Grissom asks one too. GSR (duh)
The evidence did not lie: Grissom had snored so loudly that he woke himself up. He was lying on his back, he was very tired and the scratchy dryness in his throat brooked no room for doubt.
He scrunched up his face and rubbed his eyes before opening them to see the delightful sight of Sara's gap-toothed grin and sparkling eyes. She was lying on her side, head propped on her hand, with tousled hair and still-flushed cheeks.
Their parting had been sweet sorrow, thought Grissom, and their separation more trying than he'd expected. But their reunion ... most notably the reunion sex - oh yes! - was almost worth the long weeks away.
"Sorry," he interrupted himself with a huge yawn, "I didn't mean to take a nap."
Sara was fine with it. She saw how tired he was after his red-eye flight home (and the reunion sex). But still, she had a burning question. "It was great, wonderful to see you a day early, but what was with you, chasing me down the hallway? Seriously, did you forget about the whole discretion at the lab thing?"
"Ah."
"Yes, ah." She shook her head, remembering. "I mean, I'm filthy, perfumed with eau de dump, and you're looking at me like ..."
"Like you were the best thing I'd ever seen. You were. You are." He leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. "What can I say? I missed you. A lot. A little grime wasn't going to put me off. 'Love looks not with the eyes but the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.'"
"Yeah, but ..."
He shrugged, then admitted, "The fact that this cold completely knocked out my sense of smell may have helped."
Sara rolled her eyes. Whatever, it was kind of sweet, and a pleasant change from Grissom's usual at-work reserve. It's not like he ravished her on the light table ... that would totally blow their cover, and although it did appeal to the risk taker in her, it would be way out of character for Grissom.
Move on, she thought. A couple of things were still bugging her. "But that doesn't explain ... why did you sound ... Irish?"
Grissom frowned, mystified. "Huh?" His grunt morphed into a long and loud "Unghhhrrr!" as he stretched luxuriously, arms above his head and toes pointing under the covers. He gathered Sara to his side as he lowered his left arm. Rubbing his bearded jawline with his free hand, Grissom pursed his lips, considering.
"What're you thinking?" Sara squinted at him, unable to read his expression. The furry face didn't help, but he always did inscrutable very well and anyway she was too busy feasting her eyes on his lips, his arms, that beard ... anything and everything ... now he was finally back from his sabbatical stint at Williams. She wondered if now was a good time to ask about the cocoon.
Grissom looked directly at Sara and said, "I have a question for you." He paused, then ventured, "Have you ever used a cut-throat razor?"
ZE END