Author's Notes: After a two week dry spell, a new response to this week's Unbound Challenge. Unfortunately over a thousand words, but just barely. A sequel to 'Never Trust Your Cousin', but you don't really need to know more then this- a drunken Sara in a wedding dress ends up in Grissom's tree (literally, not figuratively) and gets a dinner invitation.
Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine. Which is a good thing, considering what I do to these poor characters.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
And so the evening began, with a sticky car door, a sand-covered decomp, and a sudden downpour. And it was all downhill from there.
"Whatcha thinking?" Sara asked as she approached the tape. Grissom was already there; she followed his gaze into the shallow ditch.
"It's been a long time since we've had a good decomp," he replied, not shifting his eyes from their cadaver.
Sara just shook her head. She knew that tone. Gil Grissom was probably the only man on the planet that got excited over a rotting corpse.
"Lemons?" she asked when an errant breeze blew the tell-tale odour towards them.
"Yes."
"Fun. Do you have water on you?"
Handing over a bottle, he watched as she rinsed her hands before gloving up. Catching his mystified stare, she gave a small smile.
"Spilled Coke all over my car this afternoon," she confessed, clearly embarrassed. "Tried to throw it into the garbage at the drive-thru and the lid fell off. An absolute mess. I thought I got it all, but I must have missed the handle."
Grabbing her kit, she made her way down to the body. She began photographing the scene, and was finished by the time David had arrived and pronounced. With the body officially cleared, Grissom had begun to carefully brush away the sand and look for anything relevant. Sara snapped off a final picture to finish the roll, bagging and tagging it in her usual meticulous manner.
"Not exactly the Last Supper."
Sara looked up to see a McDonald's bag in Grissom's hand and a half-smile on Grissom's face.
"Speak for yourself," she replied. "I'm famished."
"Hey, I was making dinner when the call came in. I'm not exactly full."
"Yeah, but you're the boss. You control who gets called in."
"David!" Grissom called the coroner over. "You can move him now. Tell Al to wait for me."
"Yes sir," answered David, pulling the stretcher over.
Once she realized Grissom was going to ignore her observation, Sara moved to the outer edge of the secured perimeter. Noticing a glint in the sand, she leaned down to pick it up. A gum wrapper, out of place in the relatively secluded beach.
"What is it?"
"Gum wrapper," she informed him as she opened it up. "With a chewed piece in it. Possibly good for DNA."
"Good… Oh, and Sara? I call in who I need, but you're free to say no at any time."
"And I was under the impression that assignments weren't negotiations," she commented dryly.
She meant it as a gentle rib, but when he didn't reply she rolled her eyes and turned back to the sand, wishing the earth would open to swallow her whole. Her wish didn't come true in any conventional sense, but one short warning rumble and the heavens opened up.
~*~
Some days, Grissom wondered about the relative sanity of women as a whole. It was odd enough to come home that morning to Sara in a wedding dress up his tree. But it was another thing entirely for her to get mad without warning. Though he should have been used to it by now.
Thunder roared, and the telling hint of electricity caused the hair at the nape of his neck to bristle. There hadn't been anything on the news about rain, and he only suspected it for a few seconds before the first drops hit.
Within a few minutes any possible evidence was swept away in the torrential downpour, and all personnel on scene were soaked to the bone. Sara worked through it, selectively oblivious.
"That's enough Sara," he ordered. "We need to get back to the lab; our evidence is gone now."
Her glare was enough to express her displeasure, but he
was more focused on her other features. Her hair had been tucked under a ball
cap on arrival, but a few tendrils had escaped and now framed her face. At the
moment, he'd be hard pressed to describe a more beautiful creature.
Thy walked towards their
respective vehicles; Sara with eyes intently staring ahead and Grissom
snatching glances at her. When he was sure nobody was around, he apologized.
"Sorry about dinner."
"It's the job Griss, you get used to it. Raincheck?"
"How does breakfast sound?"
"Like a very good idea," she grinned. "But at my place."
"Fine."
~*~
Sara's apartment was small and sparsely furnished but not lacking any comfort.
"Just take off your shoes and grab a seat," she said, motioning her couch. "Unless you want to help with the food."
"I'm not sure I trust you," he teased, following her into the comparatively spacious kitchen.
Reaching into the fridge, she came out with a basket of strawberries, a bunch of bananas, two kiwi, a yogurt and a container of whipping cream.
"Here," she said, handing him the fruit. "Just slice these up. Knives are in that drawer."
She went to a cupboard next, pulling out a large glass bowl and beaters. She poured the whipping cream into the bowl and added a sprinkle of sugar and vanilla flavour. Sara beat the mixture for a few minutes, stopping occasionally to check the consistency. When she was satisfied, she added the strawberry yogurt and mixed for another thirty seconds.
Obviously pleased with her effort, she brought the bowl and two forks over.
"Dig in," she invited, selecting a banana slice to dip. It was in her mouth before she thought, and she apologized. "I should have put this into separate bowls, huh? I'm not used to company, obviously."
"I don't think you have cooties Sara," he said. "Don't double dip and we'll be fine."
She stared at him in stunned amazement.
"Cooties? Double dipping? What are you, two?"
"Three actually," Grissom grinned, dunking a kiwi piece into the dip. A sharp reply was on the tip of her tongue when his cell rang.
"Grissom," he answered. "Hello Jim…. You've got an ID? That's great…. No, I'm not at CSI right now…. I'm at Sara's for breakfast…. Yeah. Ha ha. I'll be back around ten…. Goodbye."
He flipped his phone off, and Sara smiled at him.
"Brass, huh?"
"Yeah."
"We should probably go back to the lab."
"I plan to finish eating first."
"So why'd you tell him where you were?" Sara asked, curiosity winning over discretion. She had to laugh at his response.
"Because, I don't think anyone would believe me."
…*…*…*…*…*…
Feel free to throw stale bagels.