Disclaimer: You know they're not mine. Title is from the Song "Take Me the Way I Am" by Ingrid Michaelson.
Rating: M for future chapter(s).
A/N: I really didn't want to start another story when I already have at least three that I need to finish but I've been contemplating something like this. Sorry that's a little angstier than what you guys are used to coming from me. Also, I intended this to be a one shot but it appears that I just have some much Grissom/Sara Nick/Sara angst that I have to get it out in a couple of chapters. Oh well. I might even update this one again within the week. That might be a record. Ugh, I just finished this chapter and I am now tempted to leave it as a one shot. Should I?
Take Me the Way I Am
The sound of her laughter echoed throughout the hall, down from Gill Grissom's trap of an office to the evidence room where Nick was desperately trying not to break the delicate china that he had trying to dust for prints for the second time. Each time, her flirtatious laugh stopped him because he knew what she was doing. He knew the way her face looked, her eyes sparkling deviously and her pearly whites flashing, and the way her body was when she made that sound.
Every last bit of his reason tried to make him focus and forget about her because he had to. His sick little three year love affair with her was nothing more than a fantasy. He would not have her because she wasn't his. She would never want to be his and he had to accept that. It was continuous mantra that rushed through his head every time he caught the scent of her perfume or when she touched his arm lightly in conversation, probably without realizing it.
It sickened him to think of Sara as such a masochist but it was the only way to explain her behavior since she wasn't stupid albeit blind at times. How could she love Grissom? He was old, cocky, antisocial, nerdy, and downright unattractive, Nick thought, though he wasn't about to suggest that he was any better for Sara. Actually, he did believe himself to be better for her because he would never stand Sara up or tell her that he wanted to be with her one moment and then not in the next. Nick would never take advantage of her like Grissom did, and of that, Nick was certain.
Footsteps sounded from down the hall, immediately snapping Nick's mind out of his increasingly frequent internal rants. He didn't have to look up from the paisley print of the white china to know that it was Sara and Grissom walking past his room. Her liquid honey voice would have given away who she was talking to any day. It disgusted him to listen to the pair since was obvious that Sara was flirting with Grissom though he shrugged it off, ignoring any backhanded and possibly suggestive comments from her lips.
"How're you doing, Nicky?" Sara said happily, entering the lab room alone.
"Just peachy," he drawled, refusing to look up at her beaming face.
"You okay? You seem kind of moody."
"Nope. Just tired of dusting china," he lied, finally placing down the cup in an act of surrender.
"You need some help? Gil suggested that you might need it."
She was the only one in the entire unit to call him by his first name. It made him wish that she would say his name with such fervor and pleasure.
"No, I think I can mange a whole set of teacups by myself."
"Okay, Nicky. If you say so."
He hated it when she called him by that pet name. It always made him feel like she was his little brother. And that he definitely was not.
Turning on her heel, she walked off with her brown hair bobbing in its ponytail, leaving only her scent of vanilla to linger with him.
"Great," he muttered. "Real smooth."
After another hour of muttering and dusting for prints on ancient cups and saucers, Nick succumbed to his growling stomach and made his way to the lunchroom only to find Sara leaning into Grissom's space as she poured himself a cup of coffee. He could have puked at her desperation, at her need to get Grissom's attention and make him realize that she was female. She was certainly trying to drive home the latter point since she had one hand resting on the edge of the counter, the other on her hip as she leaned in slightly, revealing creamy cleavage. In the past couple of months, Nick had seen more of her cleavage than he had in the past two and a half years combined. She was trying hard and Grissom just wasn't having any of it.
"Nick, how's your case coming?" Grissom questioned formally, sidestepping Sara, another move to completely ignore her.
She looked putout. Nick looked nauseated.
"Slowly," he replied distantly, raiding the contents of the fridge for his lunch.
"You actually brought a lunch?" Sara questioned.
"Yepp. Thought I'd save myself some money," he said flippantly.
"That's a good idea," she offered.
Nick noticed how even though she was facing him and talking directly to him, Sara was always aware of what Grissom was doing and where he was. She was using her peripheral vision to watch him. It scared Nick. She was practically obsessed though he supposed she had to be in order for Grissom to realize that she was there, female, and willing.
"Nick, you look kind of pale. You all right?" Grissom wondered, musing over his cup of steaming coffee.
"I'm fine, thanks."
All he wanted to do was sit in silence in the lunchroom and eat his sandwich that he had made before work. He was sick of seeing Sara present herself to repeatedly to his boss while he ignored it. It would have only taken her once to show Nick some cleavage and offer some flirtatious comments before he had her screaming beneath him in his bed.
"So they're reopening that new science centre," Sara started, watching Grissom's face for any hint of interest.
"When?"
"I think this Friday. I was thinking of going. It sounds kind of interesting."
"You should."
Oh God. Grissom was either ridiculously blind and dumb or completely not interested in Sara at all.
"They have this whole exhibit on butterflies and moths. There's another one on some kind of beetle only found in the Southern United States."
"Sounds like your kind of party," Nick offered, trying to help Sara out in hopes of getting rid of the two of them faster.
"No, I've got other plans this weekend," Grissom replied nonchalantly, leaving it at that.
"What, you're hosting the bug exhibit?" Nick jested out of sick amusement.
"Not quite. Lady Heather and I are going out to dinner. She told me about this great French restaurant on the other side of town that she's been dying to go to and so have I."
"So you and Lady Heather?" Nick asked, stealing the words from Sara's mouth, which was slightly agape.
"No, Nick. I'm not sure if you know this but two adults of the opposite sexes can go out for dinner without it being sexual."
"Not when she's the head dominatrix of a brothel," he muttered.
"There's more to her than leather boots and a corset," Grissom replied curtly.
"Sorry, I forgot about her whip and chains too."
Nick knew he was trending on a soft spot for Grissom but he loved every minute of it too much to stop goading him.
"Nick, do you have a problem with Lady Heather's lifestyle?"
"Not at all."
"Then what do you have a problem with?"
Such an open-ended question, Nick mused to himself. He could start with how oblivious Grissom was since Sara was all but physically throwing herself at him. Nick could continue on with how Grissom was taking advantage of Sara by standing her up and knowing that she'll be there whenever he wants her to be no matter the time of day or what she was doing. However, Nick wasn't about to compromise his career because he was in love with his coworker who wanted nothing to do with him except to be his friend.
"Nothing. This case is just draining me, that's all."
"It's okay. Just don't take your frustrations out someone else who doesn't deserve it."
"Sure thing."
Grissom excused himself, saying that he need to get back to office to do some paperwork. Much to Nick's surprise, Sara didn't jump up at the opportunity to be alone in a small room with their boss. Instead, she said silently in her chair, staring at Nick with a fierceness in her eyes that troubled him.
In one moment, it was gone, as if she had shifted thoughts completely. Sorrow replaced it, sadness emanating from her in crushing waves. Nick wanted to get up and hold her in her arms, tell her that she was going to be fine and that it wasn't the end of the world that Grissom was clearly, though not admittedly, in love with another woman. Nick wanted to, but he didn't know how. A perverse part of him wanted her to suffer like he had been for the past three years.
Her eyes watered slightly as he stood up to put his untouched sandwich back in the fridge. When he reached the doorway, he half turned to find her eyes searching his desperately. She wanted him to help her, he could see that. She was even more devastated that it was clear that he wasn't about to.
"Now you know how I feel," he said softly.
This time, it was his footsteps that echoed down the hallway and her crying that followed in pursuit.