Shifting Gears
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She always got to drive.
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Greg and Sara drabble. Spoilers for the Grissom and Sara relationship.
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It didn't even matter that he was the one who knew where they were going.
She always got to drive.
Apparently that was one of the perks of sleeping with the boss.
Greg tried not to appear as agitated about the whole situation as he really was, slouching slightly in the passenger seat of the old department issue Tahoe. They hadn't used these things in years; at least for evidence collection. The whole bunch of them were transferred to PD for undercover operations, Witness Protection Transfer, whatever it was that they used them for. Day shift was monopolizing most of the Denalis, frustrating Grissom and landing Sara and Greg, and their scene in the middle of nowhere, with a stick shift Tahoe. Which was fine. He loved driving stick. Not that anyone would ever know that about him. He was again, as always, in the passenger seat.
Apparently it didn't matter that he was the only one out of the two of them that had a stick shift personal vehicle, either. Sure, she knew how to drive a standard. They all did. And it wasn't even that she was driving poorly. She wasn't. Sara's driving abilities, more so than her record, were spotless, surprising enough.
He flipped open the case file, sifting through a few reports, lethargically meandering his way through the initial report, trying not to roll his eyes at Betty-Sue Jensen's statement that her brother "turned into one ah them aliens, gonna suck out ma brains." This was definitely one for the 'weird' file.
Her fingers caught his attention, lingering in his peripheral vision, tapping lightly on the shifter. She laid her palm over the tip of it, wrapping her fingers around the shaft as she shifted to fourth, slowing to let a car pass.
He did not just see that.
She rotated her palm over the edge, fingers loitering around, waiting to push it back up to fifth. Finally she did, guiding the shifter with the heel of her palm, easily changing gears, and speeding up again.
Greg exhaled, trying to not think about her hand wrapped around anything other than the shifter. He turned his attention to the road, watching as she changed lanes to allow for a truck to pass them on the left. This was not going to help. Thinking about Sara again was going to get him to awkward and embarrassed in a matter of minutes. He was fine. In the last few months, he had worked really hard at being fine.
He was mostly fine.
He was doing better than Catherine; her fantasy had a ring on his finger. His was just shacking up with their boss.
He caught sight of her fingers again, this time wrapped securely around the length of the shifter, her thumb making a circular motion along the top surface.
Silently, he cursed his dirty mind.
This was ridiculous.
He ran a hand through his hair, upsetting his neatly assembled curls into their usual state of disarray, and rubbed at his eyes, trying to refocus. Sara's hand moving like that; that was only in his dreams. There was no chance of that anymore. He cleared his throat, blinking, keeping his attention on the road in front of them. The Tahoe had just become uncomfortably hot.
She let out an inaudible sigh, and shifted, arching her back ever so slightly in the driver's seat, rotating her hips forward only just, yawning softly. He inwardly groaned; wondering if she realized she was all but making love to the shifter.
Christ on ice. She was going to kill him.
He missed the smirk that curved slyly across Sara's lips.
She watched him squirm slightly, fidgeting in the passenger seat uncomfortably.
Maybe it was time to shift gears after all.
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A/N: just a little drabble…I think it's time she 'shifts gears,' and goes to Greg. I've had enough already, and it's only been three episodes lol.