Home, Sweet Home
Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone in regards to CSI; the show and its characters belong to a bunch of people who aren't me. I am merely borrowing the characters for my own amusement. Dance puppets, dance.
Author's Note: Things have seemed a little slow in the fandom lately, so I bring you fic…that's only taken me three months to write. But hey, it's finally done! And if you have time, please leave a review. They always make me smile :)
A big thank you to my all-star beta, EllipsesBandit, who never ceases to be the most awesome person for her hard work and support.]
August 2006
"Oh, you think you're such a tough guy, don't you? You're soooo tough. I wonder what people would think of you trying to take this from a woman. You think people are going to like you when they hear about this? Huh?"
In his recliner, Grissom glanced up from his newspaper to watch Sara and Bruno engaged in their game of tug-of-war. Bruno had the thick, colorful rope clenched in jaws and was hanging on for dear life, but Sara proved to be surprisingly strong against his sixty pound frame; she managed to drag the dog a few inches across the hardwood floor.
They'd gotten Bruno from a mobile adoption center about a month ago. Sara had spotted the massive truck as they walked through the park. She suggested they go over just to "look." Forty-five minutes later, the two of them headed home…with a boxer leading the way on the leash.
"C'mon, tough guy. You're really going to let a girl beat you. I thought that was sacrilege in the male universe. They're going to kick you out if I get this."
Grissom had still been getting used to having the dog. He discovered Bruno had a liking to chewing his shoes and burying his bones in the backyard garden. Not to mention the fact that when Grissom now turned over in bed, he usually bumped into Bruno's furry bulk, instead of being able move closer to Sara. Every time he had to clean up water that had been sloshed over from the dog's bowl, Grissom had to remind himself having the boxer was a good thing because Sara wouldn't be alone in the condo on her nights off.
Several minutes later, Sara managed to wrestle the rope out of Bruno's grasp. She laughed delightfully, a wonderful melodious sound. "I won! I won! Looks like the almighty puppy is no match for me," she teased, dangling the rope in front of Bruno. The dog lunged, but she jerked her hand away.
As the new game went on, Bruno grew more and more frustrated, and he started to bark at her.
"Honey, you probably want to let him have that for a bit," Grissom suggested.
"Oh, he's fine," she shot back, whipping her arm away from the boxer. "Besides, it's just a game."
"Well, it might be a good idea to let the dog win once in a while."
"Why? It's not like he can rip my arms out of my soc-OOOF!" She didn't finish her sentence because as she had looked to Grissom for that brief moment, Bruno had taken advantage of the distraction and jumped on her. The action caught Sara completely by surprise, and she stumbled to the floor. Meanwhile, Bruno had gotten away with his treasure.
"Are you all right?" Grissom asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she sighed, sitting up. "Sore loser," she muttered pointedly at Bruno, who wagged his tail at her, apparently ready for another round.
Grissom pursed his lips in thought. "A fool and her rope are soon parted…" Luckily he had opened the newspaper again, so his smirk was hidden.
He began reading, not paying much attention until the moment he heard Sara say, "Go get it, Bruno!"
Grissom saw the rope being tossed at him from the side, but didn't really register it until it landed in lap. He did however register Bruno, who-- instead of jumping over the arm of the chair--decided to take a frontal approach and tried to spring over the newspaper. The canine managed to successfully crumble and tear the paper as he drooled on Grissom's lap, retrieving the beloved toy. Looking up, he found Sara's laughing brown eyes.
"'To err is human; to forgive is canine,'" she said ever so sweetly.
April 2009
"Have you thought about what food-"
"A burrito."
"I can see you haven't given this much thought," Grissom deadpanned.
"Eating fresh fruits and vegetables was great, but I have been dreaming of Roberto's burritos ever since I got on that boat. It's so bad I've almost forgotten what one tastes like," Sara replied equally seriously.
"And here I thought it was me you missed the most."
"Eh, you were somewhere in twenty," she grinned, before returning to her book. A moment later she looked up. "What are you after when we land?"
Pursing his lips, he shrugged. "Truthfully, I haven't thought about it."
"Yeah, right," she rolled her eyes. "You want one of your foot long meatball subs from Pino's."
He didn't look up from the crossword he had resting on the tray in front of him. "It's a foot long four cheese, spicy Italian meatball sandwich."
"My apologies," she held up her hands in mock defense. Then she added, "I'll tell you what I am looking forward to is sleeping in a real bed with real pillows and real sheets."
"I'm sure Bruno is too. Jim doesn't seem like the type to share his bed with another male."
At the sound of their canine's name, she nodded vaguely. "Yeah I'm sure."
"Catherine said Jim would probably be home, so we could go by on the way from the airport, and pick up Bruno," he pursed his lips, neatly writing allegiant in 14 down.
Staring at the book, Sara hadn't really registered Grissom's words until he called her name.
"Huh? What?" she blinked.
"Did you want to pick up Bruno tonight? Or do you want to wait until tomorrow?"
"Sure, that sounds fine," she replied absently.
Their three months in Costa Rica had been a trip like no other. There were days of hiking through the rainforest, finding all sorts of exotic insects, animals, and plants. They spent many nights under the infinitely starry sky, talking and finding constellations while stealing kisses in between. Sleep was never so blissful; she could sleep curled around Grissom, for at least seven hours without fear of interruption from a cell phone or pager. For the first time in years Grissom and Sara's time was their own.
Still they were both eager to start their lives again. Sara had accepted a teaching position at Berkeley while Grissom chose to go back to work at a nearby high school, teaching biology. They were going back to Las Vegas to pick up their much missed canine, finish packing the condo, and start their lives as the Grissoms with their friends and family present.
But as their return date approached, Sara had grown more worried over Bruno's reaction. Brass had previously sent emails mentioning the boxer's pleasant adjustment to the captain's home. The more she read the well-meaning sentences about Bruno's better behavior on walks and what new flavor of chewy he loved, the less she talked about how he would love chasing seagulls on the beach.
I ditched him not once, but twice, she thought to herself. What if he doesn't want to come home? It was a question that had plagued her for a long time. The boxer had greeted her every day with loud barks and his tail wagging so hard, his bottom wiggled. He had sat on the couch with her as she read on her nights off. Deep down, a part of her worried Bruno would feel betrayed by his owners leaving him alone.
She wanted nothing more than to go to bed that night snuggled with Grissom while Bruno tried to stretch out as much as possible, snoring loudly at their feet. Breathing deeply, she tried to ignore the pit in her stomach at the thought of their dog not wanting to play a game of tug-of-war.
"Honey." Grissom's voice broke her thoughts. "That really wasn't an answer."
"I'm sorry." Thinking it would be better to just get it over with than spend their first night back wondering what would happen, she told him, "Tonight's fine. As long as Jim doesn't mind."
"Okay." With that, he went back to the crossword puzzle.
Sara leaned her head against the window, and hoped for a slobbering welcome.
Grissom observed Sara concentrating on the same page in her book for the last six minutes. She seemed more and more distracted, not really paying attention when he spoke. When he repeated himself, she'd given one-word answers.
And everything he'd asked her had to do with going home.
Of course their home was going to be in San Francisco, but he couldn't help but wonder if she wasn't as excited about their return as she had been. Since they'd finalized their jobs, Sara hadn't stopped talking about how great it was going to be to finally have normal working hours, how much Bruno was going to love living by the beach, and never again having to sit outside a courtroom all day long only to be told to come back the next day.
Now that talk had all but ceased. And when the topic of the dog came up, she appeared almost…disinterested in seeing Bruno. Safely cuddled together his first night in the jungle, she had grilled him about where the boxer was staying, did he have all of his toys, did his temporary caretaker know all of the dog's habits, etc.
That's when it hit Grissom. Getting Bruno meant going back to Las Vegas. Las Vegas represented the crime lab, a career that had taken up a large part of their lives…well, most certainly his life. A career that he had, more times than he cared to admit, put above Sara.
Maybe she was afraid, once they were back, he would decide to renew his life as graveyard supervisor.
Grissom's pen stopped moving as he stared at the seat in front of him. His stomach twisted into a knot; he couldn't let her think he was going to choose the lab yet again.
Reassurances were on the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of it with strangers sitting in close proximity to them. He decided to wait until they landed.
********
They landed at the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport with plenty of time to spare before their connecting flight. After a trip to the restrooms, they found a small food court. Grissom offered to get them something to eat, and while Sara saved them a table, he started to formulate what he wanted to say to convince her that under no circumstances would he ever go back to the lab.
A few minutes later he appeared at the table, precariously balancing a tray with a steaming cheese pizza, two sodas, along with plates and napkins. Sara had served herself a fairly large slice, and was just about to take a bite when Grissom blurted, "I'm not going back to the lab."
Her hand stilled with the slice more than half way to her mouth. "Ooooookay," she drew out the word, obviously puzzled.
"No matter what anyone says or asks, I'm not going back," he continued, undeterred. "Not even for a consultation. We're just there to pack things, sell the condo, and move." He winced at forgetting the most important part. "And get married."
Sara continued to stare at him. "Yeah, we talked about this already." She pursed her lips in thought. "Why? Is there something else we need do in Vegas?
"No, no. I just wanted make sure you knew."
"Oh…okay."
This was not the reaction he'd been expecting. Instead of relief all he saw was the look she usually reserved for the times he starts to describe the historical inaccuracies of some western films; just utter bewilderment.
"It's just…you don't seem all that excited to go home. Our old home," he quickly corrected himself.
"What do you mean?"
He then explained his previous conclusion, and during the process a slow smiled formed on her face. To his relief (and confusion) she finally chuckled.
"You've got the right part, just the wrong reason," she finally confessed.
"Oh." It took him a minute to figure out what she meant. "What does Bruno have to do with it?"
Shrugging, she hesitated for a moment. "It's going to sound stupid when I say it out loud. I'm probably just over thinking things."
"What is it?" He leaned forward a bit in his chair.
She sighed. "It's just…what if Bruno doesn't want to come back with us? What if he really likes living with Jim?"
Grissom's forehead wrinkled as he contemplated her words. "You think he's forgotten about us?"
She nodded. "Or that he doesn't like us. He might not like me anymore."
Now he was truly flabbergasted as his mouth hung slightly open. He spoke again, still keeping his voice gentle. "Why would you think that?"
"I left him…twice. I wouldn't blame him if he wouldn't want to come back with us. He probably thinks he'll be left alone again."
Reaching across the table, Grissom curled his hand over her fingers. "First of all, you didn't leave him. And I wasn't exactly the model owner before I left." He thought back to the last few months where he stopped taking Bruno for walks and playing with him in the backyard. Some days Grissom barely found the energy to throw a ball around the house. "Second, I'm fairly certain I can unequivocally say you are the dog's favorite person. That's not easily forgotten." That at least earned him a tiny smile.
"Besides," he continued, "I've read about lost dogs that, after being away from their home for years, show recognition for their owners when returned. And the pets are happy to be back."
"Well, I've heard of stories where some lost dogs don't remember their previous owners…and in some cases, after short periods of time," she countered.
From her tense shoulders and frustrated tone, Grissom could tell this really bothered her. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I'm sure Bruno couldn't have forgotten the person who sneaked him scraps of dinner and always let him up on the bed."
Not acknowledging his slight joke, she sighed, "I hope so."
They arrived in Las Vegas in the early evening. After they had sent an email to the team about their return, Catherine hadn't merely offered them a ride from the airport; her point-blank reply stated she would need their flight information so she could pick them up.
So when Sara saw the familiar face when they came to the terminal, her eyes widened in surprise.
"I guess I should've told you; I had plastic surgery. I decided the blonde, great figure look wasn't working for me any more," Brass deadpanned. "The over fifty, slightly balding man was the way to go."
Chuckling, she immediately embraced the gruff police captain. "Hey, Jim. It's so good to see you," she greeted warmly.
"You, too, Sara." When they parted, Brass and Grissom shared a hearty handshake. "Welcome back, Gil of the Jungle."
As the three headed to baggage claim, Brass filled them in as to Catherine's absence.
"She left a message saying she got called to a scene. I don't know who she was angrier at, the suspect who caused the crime or the responding officer who paged her. But she told me to let you know that the team is meeting for dinner tomorrow night at seven, and that does include you two, no matter how tired you are."
Grissom's lips twitched in amusement. "I wouldn't expect less from her."
Brass' eyes continued to scan the rotating belt. "I think this works. You two can pick up your dog right away, if you want."
"How is Bruno?" Sara asked casually, trying to keep the trepidation out of her voice.
"He's been great; he hasn't destroyed anything and he's been eating well. I've been taking him to the park more since I taught him to catch a Frisbee in his mouth."
"Really?" Grissom raised an eyebrow.
"It impresses women," Brass shrugged. "But I'm pretty sure he just likes to do it because of the doggy sausage he gets after each catch."
Tightening her arms across her chest, Sara took a calming breath. Just because Bruno seemed happier didn't mean he wanted to live with Brass…right?
Sara remained quiet for most of the car ride while Brass filled Grissom with the changes at the lab. She tried to chime in here and there, but she was lost in thought over the canine's possible reaction to her and Grissom's homecoming. Nervously tapping her foot against the floor boards, she worried her bottom lip under her teeth.
The interminable minutes finally ended when they pulled up in front of Brass' house. Slamming the door with a little more force than necessary, she quickly made her way to the front door before the two men did.
Brass put the key in the lock. "You eager to get your dog and get out of here?"
She managed to a huff a laugh. "No, I'm just a little tired is all."
Raising his bushy eyebrows, Brass turned the knob. As they stepped in, he gestured to a small plastic crate sitting by the inside of the door. "I got of all of his stuff together for you," he said, referring to the dog's toy bones and balls.
Grissom looked at the box for a moment. "Looks like you bought twice as many toys as Sara did."
Brass stopped where he stood in the hallway. "Hey, I only bought him some new tennis balls and a new chewing rope."
Sara swallowed heavily. "You got him a new chew rope?"
"Yeah. I tried to get Bruno to play with that old braided rope Gil brought, but he just wasn't interested in it." Brass shrugged. "He seemed to like the new one a lot more."
The panic that had settled in her stomach, now coursed throughout her body. Bruno always, always loved to play with rope. Even when he was dead tired, Bruno would muster enough energy for a quick game of tug-of-war when she dangled that rope in front of him. And the toy had been through everything from dirt to slimy puddles; the extra "seasoning" had never bothered the boxer.
"Bruno's in the backyard right so I'll be right back," Brass said, heading to the living room.
Her heart beating considerably faster now, Sara closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. It now seemed all too clear Bruno had forgotten her. Now she silently braced herself for the dog to take one sniff at them…and turn the other direction.
Grissom looked over at her, wrinkling his forehead. "You okay?"
Managing a tight smile, she nodded.
Not a moment later, she heard the sound of an all too familiar bark and the jingling of his dog tags.
"Bruno, c'mere," she called with little conviction as Grissom whistled for the dog.
Try as she might, Sara still was not prepared for the moment when Bruno saw them. The dog's trot had turned into a gallop akin to a herd of elephants at the moment he caught their scent. For a brief second, she thought the boxer would barrel straight into them. But at the last second, Bruno sprung to hind legs and jumped on her arm with enough force to knock her back into Grissom.
His tail wagging furiously, and his ears pinned back in excitement, Bruno tried his best to jump and get petted at the same time. Finally, Grissom managed to grab the dog's collar and guide him to a sitting position.
"Whoa, easy there, boy," Grissom chuckled as he and Sara crouched down.
She held out her hand, and Bruno started a thorough sniffing inspection, starting with her fingers and then moving to her arms and stomach. Eight seconds later, the dog seemed satisfied with the results because he used her thigh for a boost so he could lick her ear.
"Bruno!" she scolded happily, gently tugging his head away from her head. But that didn't deter him one bit; the dog's seemed to have a mission of trying lick her face somewhere.
Grinning at the dog, she started scratching behind his ears. "Hey, buddy. What's going on?"
This only spurned the dog further, his tail wagging so fast, his backside moved furiously. Happy doggy moans burbled from the boxer as she massaged her hands along his face and neck.
"It's good to see you, big guy." She grinned back at the smiling dog. "I've missed you so much!"
Sara spent several moments scratching Bruno's neck, under his collar, before moving her hands to make long strides down his back, occasionally thumping his flanks. When she ruffled his ears, Bruno made another attempt to lick her cheek, causing her to giggle. She continued to coo to the big dog, paying little attention to either Brass or Grissom.
She did hear Brass say to Grissom, "I do hope you got this kind of welcome when you got to the jungle."
"All I received was a kiss before I was told the directions to the showers."
About half an hour later, Brass dropped Grissom and Sara off at their condo. Sara had sat in the back again, this time with Bruno beside her. During the ride, Grissom noticed through the rearview mirror the dog leaning against her, and that she hadn't stopped smiling.
With the last of their luggage inside, the pair thanked Brass before he left. After the door closed, Grissom and Sara headed down the short set of stairs.
"Wow." She slowly walked through the kitchen. "Catherine and Lindsey did a great job taking care of the place."
Nodding in agreement, he too observed the recently dusted bookshelves, the pots of green and thriving plants, and swept floors. The boxes from his office were stacked neatly in the corner of the living room. With the exception of the bare cupboards and refrigerator, there was little evidence showing no one had lived in the condo for the last few months.
Sara followed him into the living room, and flopped down on the couch. "Now we're definitely going to dinner with the team tomorrow night."
Chuckling, Grissom eased himself next to her. "And what about tonight?"
"Food, bath, bed."
"That is a fine plan."
She turned enough to wrap her arm around his waist and lay her head on his shoulder. "Great. Then since male role is hunter, you can call for takeout."
"Yes, dear," he smiled into her hair.
The rhythm of Sara's even breathing eased his eyes closed, and he concentrated on the feeling of her warm body next to him. At the sound of Bruno drinking noisily from his water bowl, followed by the clicking of his claws against the hardwood floors, Grissom felt Sara sigh contently.
"I am really happy to be home," she murmured.
And Grissom knew what she meant. It had nothing to do with being in the condo, although it felt good to be in a place with an actual bed and hot running water.
Home wasn't just the two of them. It was the three of them.
The blissful silence ended a moment later at the thud of a box being knocked over on the upper landing. The contents of the box had apparently clattered all over the floor and had even fallen down the steps.
Cracking an eye open, Grissom caught sight of the back two legs of the boxer. He couldn't see the front end as the canine's head was buried in the box that now lay sideways on the floor.
"Your dog is making a mess," he informed her.
"Of course. When he fetches the newspaper, he's our dog, but when he makes a mess, he's my dog."
Heaving a sigh, Sara stood up and stepped away from the couch. "Bruno, what the heck are you doing? What did you get in…" but her words trailed off.
There at the foot of the stairs stood Bruno, with the old, frayed colored rope between his teeth. He stared at her, his tail moving warily back and forth.
Grissom watched as the realization hit Sara; her face slowly lit up like a bright Christmas tree with a wide grin and her brown eyes sparkling with happiness. Any remaining doubt she might have had vanished in this one moment.
Sara took a few gradual steps. "Oh, it's on now, buddy."
Full and happy after a take out feast of burritos and meatball subs, the trio headed to bed. While Sara took a shower, Grissom placed fresh sheets on the bed. As soon as he finished, Bruno hopped on the bed and flopped down.
"Unfortunately some of Sara's fears were well founded; I can see you've forgotten some of the luxuries of home," Grissom said dryly to the dog.
By the time he made it out of the bathroom, Grissom found Sara already under the covers with Bruno's head in her lap, and his body stretched out. Her eyes were closed as she absently stroked the boxer's ears.
Grissom shook his head slightly. "You know, you could've just told me to sleep on the couch tonight."
Opening her eyes, she didn't say anything, but merely smirked at him. "C'mon, baby; it's time for bed…you too, Gil." She patted the mattress by her legs, and Bruno hauled himself up enough to move to the foot of the bed.
Shutting off the lamp on the nightstand, Grissom slid under the covers. He shifted until Sara's back was flush against his chest, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. Moments later he fell asleep to Sara's deep breaths and Bruno's snores.
********
Later in the night, Grissom awoke, half conscious. He found Sara had shifted on her other side so they were face-to-face. He went to pull her closer, but couldn't do so as a large, furry bulk had blocked him. Somehow, Bruno had managed to wedge himself between the two, and curl up into a ball.
Bruno let out a long breath, and Sara sighed contently in return. And Grissom left his arm around Sara as best he could, and closed his eyes with lips quirked up ever so slightly.