A/N: This is the story I've always maintained I'd never write. Well, kind of. But I had this redundant scene from my other story that needed using and I figured a lot of you need cheering (you know who you are) and since there are fewer and fewer GSR stories out there, I indulged. I promise I won't make a habit of it. Those of you who like my more angsty stories will not like this one. Sorry. It's…a little fluffy – all right, very fluffy – and indulging and tongue-in-cheek, but hopefully it will bring a smile to your faces. Let me know, and who knows I might indulge again and write a second chapter.
The choice of title is a little nudge to An Officer and a Gentleman and its famous factory scene where Richard Gere sweeps Debra Winger off her feet. You know the one…you can hear the music…Love lift us up where we belong…
Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
Up Where We Belong.
"Where to, Sir?"
Grissom slung his travel bags into the back seat before sliding inside the darkened cab next to them. "3057 Westfall Avenue," he replied without hesitation as he pulled the rear door shut.
The driver gave a nod, and after buckling up Grissom leaned his head back against the seat. Closing his eyes he let out a long, tired breath, thinking he was home, at last. Well almost. He could have opted to go straight there, of course, take a much needed shower and grab a few hours' sleep, but what good would that be when Sara wasn't there to share in the experience?
He knew she'd be at work, but he also knew for a fact that she wouldn't be in the field, and as the flight had neared landing this naughty idea had taken root in his mind. With a little luck he'd be able to spring this surprised return on her at the lab and literally whisk her off her feet. A giddy smile formed at the thought. Another fifteen minutes and he'd make that happen. God, he couldn't wait.
"You in Vegas on a visit?" the driver asked, drawing him out of his reverie.
Grissom blinked his eyes open, meeting the driver's gaze through the rearview mirror. "No," he said, his smile widening pleasurably, "Vegas is home. I'm…coming home."
The driver craned his neck, taking in Grissom's travel-weary appearance. "You look like you've been gone a long time," he remarked amiably.
The driver's words gave him pause. His hand came up to his face, scratching at his untrimmed beard. "I have," he replied before adding a little musingly, "Too long." Unwilling to encourage the driver's friendly chatter, Grissom turned his head away, averting his gaze to the Vegas skyline looming in the near distance.
The driver must have got the message, because the conversation stopped after that, and Grissom let his eyes drift shut again. This time the breath that left him was one of contentment and wellbeing at being back. He'd been on many, many trips since his year in Paris, a week doing consultancy work here and there on the mainland, punctuated by longer stays abroad, but he'd never felt as homesick as he had on this last month-long trip. He'd done his work with the same care and diligence but his mind, his heart wasn't in it, and on the interminable return journey home he'd made a decision. This trip would be his last.
Lulled by the unvarying drone of the car's engine, he felt himself starting to drift off, and he wondered briefly if he was doing the right thing heading straight to the lab; maybe he should have gone home and waited for her there instead. The thought of taking off his sweaty clothes, of standing under the warm spray of the shower and maybe even catching up on a little sleep seemed rather appealing all of a sudden, but then again so did the thought of Sara being there, eagerly sharing in all these things with him.
"Sir?"
The driver's voice startled him awake. He snapped his eyes open and stared, for a moment disorientated, before focusing his gaze on the driver looking over his shoulder at him.
"You sure you have the right address?" the driver asked, staring back at him with puzzlement.
Wiping the blurriness from his eyes Grissom looked over to his right at the familiar glass building and a smile forming nodded his head. "Yeah, I have," he said, and realising what caused the driver's confusion added, "This is where my home is." He checked the fare on the meter and, after pulling his wallet out of his jacket pocket, took out three ten-dollar bills. "Keep the change," he said as he paid, and gathering his bags let himself out of the cab.
Excitement made his heart thud quickly in his chest. Turning, he scanned his eyes over the lit-up building before reaching down for his bags and crossing the lot to the main entrance with a spring in his step. Soon, Sara would be in his arms again, and he would be able to see first hand the new changes in her. Hearing about it on the phone wasn't quite the same.
What if he wasn't allowed access inside the lab, he wondered with sudden worry? 5.00 am was hardly a time for a social visit. But he needn't have fretted, for the woman minding the front desk had once been one of his most fervent admirers.
"Judy," he said, as he had done hundreds of times over the years, "Have you seen Sara?"
Judy's head snapped up from her reading. "Dr Grissom, Sir!" she exclaimed, eyes wide with surprise as she jumped to her feet, "You're back!" The smile that danced on her lips was wide, pleasurable and very wistful. A dainty hand rose to toy with a curl near her ear while, entranced and dumbstruck, she stared at him.
"Sara?" he reminded her, amusement twitching at his lips.
Judy gave her head a shake, refocusing. Her smile lost none of its sparkle. "She's around somewhere," she said, then brought her hand to the microphone of the PA system. "You want me to call her for you?"
"No," he said quickly before leaning in toward her and adding in a conspiratorial whisper, "I want to surprise her."
A blissful sigh escaped Judy's parted lips. "How nice," she mused, awestruck.
"Do you mind if I leave my bags with you?" he asked, bringing her back down to earth. "I've come straight from the airport."
"Sure," Judy purred, eyeing him with envy. "I don't mind at all."
Grinning, Grissom dumped his bags behind the reception desk, and with a parting wink that made Judy's legs turn to jelly hurried down the maze of corridors. The place seemed strangely quiet as he peered inside the various rooms and offices, and when his search for his wife yielded nothing his feelings of joyful anticipation made way to crushing disappointment. He was rounding the corner into the locker room when a woman called a loud and snappy, "Excuse me?" that stopped him dead in his tracks.
He turned and watched with a frown as the woman swept a narrowed gaze over the length of him. "Can I help you?" he asked with puzzlement.
Slowly she lifted her eyes back to his face and smirked. "I was about to ask you the same question. This area is not open to the public."
Grissom's face lit up in understanding, and he lifted a placating hand between them. "I can explain," he said, and scanned narrowed eyes over the badge hanging around the woman's neck for a name, but without his glasses couldn't make out much of anything. "You must be Morgan," he said on realising she wasn't wearing a lab coat, and extended his hand to her, "Nice to meet you. I'm―"
Before he could introduce himself fully, the woman's right hand had shot to her hip while her left one lifted like a shield in front of her. Grissom's eyes widened, his introduction dying on his lips as his hands immediately flew up to his side, as if in surrender.
"Morgan?" she exclaimed with disbelief and laughed. "For that alone, I should shoot you."
Grissom did a double take at the comment. "I'm sorry," he said and lowered his hands by his side. "If you're not Morgan, you must be Finn. I've heard a lot about you too."
The woman's brow shot up in surprise. "You have?" she exclaimed, and slowly scanned her eyes from his head all the way to his toes. She must have liked what she saw because when she brought her gaze back to his face she had relaxed her stance and was grinning broadly. "And you are?"
"I'm Grissom," he said, as though his name alone was all that was needed, and extended his hand again.
Clearly it wasn't. "I'm sorry," she said, looking puzzled as she kept a hold of his hand longer than strictly necessary after shaking, "But I still have no idea who you are."
He thought about replying that he was Sara's husband, but remembering Sara had deliberately kept her maiden name for work so as to distance herself from him and all that his name had represented didn't. Growing impatient at the delay, he pulled his hand out of her grasp and said, "I'm…looking for Sara. Have you seen her?"
Finn shook her head again. "Last I saw she was in Supervisor Russell's office. Breakfast was mentioned."
Grissom's heart sank at the news.
"But maybe I can be of help," she then said, her wide smile still present.
Grissom registered a look of surprise at the slightly predatory edge in her voice. Was she flirting? With a married man she'd only just met?
Movement beyond Finn's shoulder caught his attention and spying Hodges not-so-discreetly watching the scene through the DNA lab's plate glass window thought it a good time to retreat. Smiling, Hodges lifted his hand in a friendly wave and Grissom found himself returning the smile a little stiffly.
"I can't believe it!" Hodges said, quickly joining them. "It is you."
"Hello, David," Grissom replied.
"You two know each other?" Finn asked with puzzlement.
"Of course," Hodges replied, a smug smile on his face, "You must have heard Grissom's name mentioned in this lab. The man's a legend."
Finn crossed her arms over her chest. "Can't say that I have," she replied, smiling and eyeing him in a way that made him uncomfortable.
"Finn's not been here that long," Hodges went on as an aside to Grissom. "She's…Catherine's replacement."
"I can hear you, you know, Hodges," Finn said curtly, "and I'm no one's replacement."
"Anyway, David," Grissom said, thinking it now a grave mistake not to have gone home and waited for Sara there, "you don't happen to know where Sara is, do you?"
"Sure," Hodges said pleasantly, "she's in the garage with Nick."
"If you'll excuse me," Grissom said, swiftly stepping past both, "But I'm in a hurry."
Hodges gave a worldly nod. "Don't be a stranger!" he called as Grissom rushed away.
"Who was that?" he heard Finn exclaim, but he didn't hang about to hear Hodges undoubtedly very detailed reply.
Sara stood with her back to him, bent under the hood of a truck, wrench in gloved hand. Just as he was getting to her Nick rolled out from underneath the truck, looking up directly at him. A smile of pleasure spread over the CSI's face. Grissom brought a shushing finger to his lips and Nick nodded in understanding.
"The underside's all clear," Nick called to Sara as he pushed up to his feet and dusted himself off.
Sara straightened up with a wince, her hands moving to her lower back for support. "Well, I can't see any signs of tampering here either," she replied in a sigh.
Wiping a hand across her brow she slowly turned toward him and Nick. Their eyes met. Her mouth opened in surprise, but no sound came out, and she gazed at him, slack-jawed. The breath caught in his throat, and he stood there, mesmerised at the sight of her. She looked radiant, truly resplendent in her blue coveralls. Her hair was pulled back in her trademark ponytail, loose strands hanging over her eyes and the smudge of grease on her temple. His hand twitched by his side, wanting to brush the hair back and touch her face. But he didn't, lest he broke the spell. And when his eyes filled with tears, hers did too despite the wide, dancing smile now adorning her lips.
"You're back," she stated, and suddenly feeling as dumbstruck as Judy had been earlier on seeing him he could only nod his reply.
His eyes slid down her face to her open neck and the black tank top she wore underneath that he knew would be straining over her breasts and rounded stomach. "I was going to sweep you off your feet," he said, finding his voice at last as he brought his gaze back up to her face, "but I don't think I can."
Nick gave a snort of laughter. "Not without doing your back in, that's for sure," he said, clasping a friendly hand on his shoulder.
Grissom's eyes narrowed. Then he slowly turned his head toward the younger man and threw him a meaningful look.
Nick laughed and squeezed his old mentor's shoulder again. "So, Sara," he said, taking his cue nonetheless, "I'm…going to go…grab myself a cup of coffee. You want one?" Her eyes fixed on Grissom Sara shook her head in reply. "Griss?"
"No, thank you, Nick," Grissom said pointedly.
"Okay, okay," Nick said in another chuckle, and lowered his hand from Grissom's shoulder, "I get the message. I know when I'm not wanted." He made to leave but then thought better of it, whipping back around toward them still standing two paces from each other. His head was shaking in amusement. "You've got five minutes, Sidle, not a second more. I want to finish this before the end of shift. I've somewhere to be too!" And then as he left, "it's good to see you, Griss. Maybe we can catch up properly soon."
"Do I not get a kiss?" Sara asked when Nick had finally gone.
Grissom took a step closer and then another, finally closing the distance between them until their stomachs touched. His hands came up, lifting to her face, pushing her hair away from her eyes, and he stared at her at length, wanting to commit this moment to memory. Sara's lips parted, releasing a breath and closing his eyes he pressed his lips to hers, lips as soft and familiar to him as his own. Her mouth yielded, opening further for him, tasting of home, and as she draped her arms around his neck he deepened the kiss with all the fervour he'd been keeping in for too long.
His body's response was immediate, the tightening of his pants testament to that. The surge of love that filled him at that moment was almost too much to bear. His coming there was a bad idea. What was he thinking? Four weeks in the Amazonian jungle did that to a man. Coming back to his senses, he pulled himself away from her and remaining within the warm cocoon of her embrace rested his forehead to hers. They stared at each other for a moment, before he pulled her into his arms again and buried his face in the crook of her neck.
"God, Sara, I've missed you so much," he said, warm breaths wafting back off her skin sending shivers of pleasure down his spine, "So very much." He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, filling his nostrils with her scent, a strange heady mixture of shampoo, motor oil and impeding motherhood.
"Sara," a voice called, and startled they sprang away from each other, "Hodges' results came back positive. There's—" Just as Grissom was turning toward the doorway the man looked up, stopping dead in his tracks. "Everything okay, here?" he asked Sara.
The smile beaming on Sara's face was blissful and totally unconcerned that they'd almost been caught smooching in the CSI garage. "Sure," she replied breezily. Taking Grissom's hand in hers she added excitedly, "DB, this is Gil, my husband."
"Gee, Sara," Russell said, deadpan despite the wide grin pulling at his lip, "You don't say. So, you're the illustrious Gil Grissom," he added, shifted his glance over at him.
Smiling, Grissom leaned forward to extend his hand, which Russell shook warmly. "Nice meeting you," he said.
"Likewise," DB said with a glance at Sara. "I take it…this little rendez-vous is a surprise?"
"What do you think?" Sara replied, tongue-in-cheek, but Grissom didn't miss the way she looked down at herself a little self-consciously while her hands moved to straighten up her hair.
"I'm sorry," Grissom said, suddenly unsure, eyes flicking between his wife and her boss hesitantly. "I don't know what I was thinking coming here." He gave a scoff of disbelief. "Honey, I'm sorry I didn't think. I don't want to cause any trouble. I just…"
"No, no, no," Russell cut in vehemently. "It's fine. In fact, it's better than fine. I'm happy you're here and we're meeting at last. I was beginning to think you were a figment of everyone's imagination." His eyes flicked to Sara's stomach and he winced. "Well, not exactly that but…you get my drift. It's nice to finally put a face to the name." He gave his head a shake and refocused on Sara. "Anyways, I'm sure Nick and I can finish up here. Why don't you… and hubby go home and…" his face softened with a roguish smile, "put your feet up or something."
Grissom's brow lifted. He glanced at Sara who was still looking radiant and seemingly very comfortable with the situation. Maybe he had misinterpreted the signs earlier. "If you're sure," Grissom said, "That'd be great."
Sara snapped her head around to him, eyes open wide in amazement that he'd so readily accepted, and he gave her a small shrug.
"Oh, I'm sure," Russell said, adding as he turned on his heel, "Nice meeting you, Grissom. We should do breakfast soon."
After Russell had left and wearing matching giddy smiles Sara and Grissom turned toward each other. "My previous boss," Sara remarked, looking a little demure, "he wasn't so…laid-back and forgiving."
"No?" he said, feigning indifference.
"No." She pinched her lips but her bright smile escaped anyway. "Marriage changed him, though."
His face softened with a tender smile. "For the best, I hope."
Sara leaned across and kissed him languidly on the mouth. "Oh, yeah," she said, pulling back from him a little, her hot breaths playing havoc on his senses, "Definitely for the best."
She stepped back from him, and for a moment, they stared at each other, their faces solemn and full of promise. Then Grissom reached across and pulled her to him by the lapel of her coveralls. "Let's go home," he said. "And finish what we've started."