TITLE: It wasn't a dream, was it?
AUTHOR: MSCSIFANGSR aka Chauncey10
FANDOM/SHIP: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. GSR
RATING: PG-13 or maybe PG-16
DISCLAIMER: I adore playing with these characters, but CBS, Bruckheimer and all the other bigwigs own them. Shhh...don't tell them.
SPOILERS: This is set vaguely in the 5th season.
A/N: I'm trying first person for a change. Let me know if it works. This story is not betad, so all the mistakes are mine.

I am just on the verge of sleep; that magical time when consciousness blurs and all things are possible when all the combined nerve endings in my skin and body awaken, sending signals of tingling pleasure coarsing through-out my body.

My body is on alert for something, I just don't know for what. I open my eyes to find my bedroom is pitch-black. The outrageous sum I'd paid for the room darkening curtains to blot out the hot mid-day sun was well worth it. My day was night and my night was day. There are no sounds filtering into my sanctuary. I had double checked the lock on my door before crawling into bed, I felt safe and secure. I'm warm, snug as a bug under the quilts on my bed. The temperature cool and just right for sleeping. Thank goodness for central air conditioning in this desert heat and a box fan, its white noise obliterates any outside noises.

I'm so sleepy, I can barely keep my eyelids open, so I don't bother.

Again, I am drifting toward unconsciousness when I feel the bed dip with the weight of your body. Again, I open my eyes, but to no avail, I cannot see a thing. I can hear the distinct sounds of shoes hitting the floor and clothing rustling. Neither of us speak, but I know it's you.

The unmistakable smell of the lab permeates through the room along with the subtle maleness that is uniquely you combined with the no-frills, fragrance free soap you use, and those pheromones you emit render me completely useless most of the time, especially at work. I'm not exactly surprised you are here, maybe because I'm oblivious to what is tangible and what is a delusion, either way, I'm happy.

You stretch your long body out length-ways across my bed for a few moments, then you shift under the cover laying flat on your back. There's no pillow on that side of the bed and I wonder if I should offer mine to you, when you roll toward me.

One of your hands hesitates when it encounters the flesh of my stomach and the other slides into my hair. I've never bothered with pajamas or nightshirts, the hazards of having nightmares preclude wearing clothes because I always tend to wake up twisted and captured in them.

You cradle your head against my breasts, your beard tickles at first but I most definitely like it. I don't bother worrying about getting you a pillow anymore. I feel your uniquely, rather large male appendage cradled against my hip. I smile to myself through the haze of sleep and I hear you sigh against the shell of my ear. Your lips brush just below my ear in a viscerally hypnotic way.

We are both relaxed and dare I say, happy? A quote from an old blues song forms in my head, "Life is love and love is right." This is real life and God, knows I love you. Soon, we drift off into a quiet repose, wrapped together as if we were an old married couple. We are where we belong.

When my alarm buzzes, I no longer feel the warmth of you laying next to me because you are gone. I am bewildered. I know not if you were a specter of my dreams or if you were real. We had exchanged no words, just shared an intimacy that transcended this world.

I stumble my way through my routine: bathroom, brush teeth and hair. I sleep walk into the kitchen to prepare breakfast of fruit and a blueberry bagel. Mr. Coffee has already done his magic, the coffeemaker is set with my alarm to allow me fast access to my morning perk. The mug you gave me last year at Christmas is the one I'd left out for my use. Why you had given me a coffee mug with a tarantula on it, I'd never know, but you gave everyone on the night-shift the same drinking cup, so I don't obsess with an over-analysis of hidden meanings and such.

I slather cream cheese over my bagel, attempting not to think too much about the feel of your naked body snuggled against mine. I try to concentrate on my breakfast, but you are too much of a distraction, even if you aren't physically in the same room. I eat a few bites of fruit and finish the bagel. Cream cheese is just too good to waste.

After eating, I head back to my bedroom, I open the curtains to look out over the sunset. Sunsets are my favorite time of day. I begin anew each day at sunset. I am not a day person, never have been. I prefer to roam at night; I feel alive then and needed.

I dress for work quickly, then make up my bed. As I'm spreading and straightening the quilts, I start to sniff the air that I displace to see if there are any lingering odors of you. I stop myself. I'm setting myself up for heartache. If you weren't there, I would be crushed because all the intimacy would have been an illusion; on the other hand, if you did sleep beside me last night, I would be crushed because you weren't there when I woke up. Damn it all to hell.

I grab the garbage as I leave for work. I make my way down two flights of stairs with my small plastic bag filled with my daily debris and head toward the dumpster. I think sardonically you will probably place me on dumpster duty at whatever crime scene you assign me this evening. You didn't spend the night in my arms, but you'll probably punish me for thinking I did. I laugh a bit to myself, but know it's probably true. I throw the bag into the waste receptacle and head to my car.

The Prius hybrid was a good choice; great gas mileage and good for the environment. Greg helped me do all the research, plus he went with me to the different dealerships to test drive the various cars that had made the final cut. I get in, crank the car to life then make my way through the traffic and winding roads to work.

I know you are there when I arrive, mainly because I saw your car in the parking garage, but more than that, I could sense your presence. I mean, you could have taken one of the Denalis to a scene; but I know better. You are somewhere in the building. I can feel you. As I wander through the lab pretending not to be looking for you while looking into each lab and office that I pass in hopes of seeing you, I feel your searing gaze upon me.

You are in the AV lab, looking dignified with your reader glasses sliding down your nose as you pretend to look at some video evidence, but you are really looking at me. Did you know that your face changes when you look at me? Your eyes narrow, pupils enlarge, your jaw offsets slightly and one corner of your mouth curls into a smirk. You don't look at anyone else like that, I know, I won't even lie when I say I watch you every chance I get.

I watch you now, watching me and I'm suddenly back in bed with you, I can literally feel your body pressed close to mine. Last night was real. It wasn't a dream. A long time ago when I'd just moved to Vegas, I'd given you the extra key to my place in case of emergency. Although you did have the key, I cannot image you just waltzing into my apartment and bed like it were the most natural thing in the world, but you did.

I blush under your gaze. Archie looks up, smiles and waves to me. I smile and cannot seem to wipe the grin from my face. I wave back to him automatically, then nod my head to you in a gesture that I hope relays the message, 'I'm going to the break room. See you there?' You blink once in response and I feel like I'm walking on air as I breeze down the hall.

Nick and Warrick are playing "Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas" on the Play Station 2 that they had rigged to the TV in the break-room. It may be against the rules of the lab, nobody's ever really checked and because Ecklie never comes in the break-room anymore since Grissom knocked the coffee pot out of his hands years ago, it's probably a moot point. So the guys are relatively safe from being written up for engaging in behavior unbecoming professional CSI's.

"Grissom's gonna kill you guys for playing that thing on the clock." I say as I head to the coffee pot, hoping someone had thought to brew some of Greg's Blue Hawaiian.

Warrick looks up at me as his computerized Mitsubishi Ellipse crashes into a enormous holographic cactus. "Damn, Nick! Little respect here, son. Sara, for your information, we're not on the clock and we're doing research."

I open the cabinet and withdraw one of the tarantula mugs, its brother in my own sink at home. I pour a taste of coffee into the cup, and am in heaven. Thank goodness for Blue Hawaiian. "How is it research?"

Warrick hasn't clicked his controller to continue yet, because he is looking at me. "For your information, it is about gang life and the proliferation of crack in the streets of the fictional cities of Los Santos, San Fierro and Las Venturas. A good investigator uses all the resources he can," his smirk is kinda cute.

Nick hasn't looked up as he maneuvered his car through the desert. "Did you guys know about the mini-game contained in this video game?" I ask smugly.

Nick looked at me for the first time and said, "No, but tell me more."

"'Hot coffee' is the name of it and it caused the game to be re-rated to an Adult only rating. It's a sex scene where the main character has sex with his girlfriend."

"How do you get to it?" Nick was steady pushing buttons trying to avoid the street sweeper about to collide with his red Lamborghini.

"Special code." I shake my head and shrug my shoulders 'no' in response to his question of what the code was and where he could get a hold of it.

"How do you know these things?"

"I'm a geek, I'm supposed to know things like that." I laugh and he resumed with his game, not paying any more attention to me.

Warrick still hadn't restarted his part of the game and he is smirking again, "I notice you're in a good mood. Any reason for that, that you can share with me in the presence of children?" Warrick pointed a thumb at Nick, who was engrossed in the game.

"None whatsoever." I say as I pour my cup full of coffee.

Warrick's smile was his best feature, well, other than his eyes and I really liked the guy. If it weren't for Grissom, I'd have probably made a play for Warrick at some point in the last five years, but I would have risked Catherine's ire. He is a very smart man and when Grissom entered the room, Warrick clicked back onto the game and pretended our conversation had never taken place.

Grissom seemed to walk in slow motion as he sees the boys playing the video game, he makes an exaggerated face at the clock on the wall and patronizingly says, "You guys have 15 minutes before shift begins."

In unison, both mouth, "Yes, sir," without looking up from their game.

"Sara, I need to see you in my office, if you have a few moments." He didn't look me in the eye when he said that, but I felt the tension in his body merely from having had that same body next to mine all night. He seemed a bit shy, but then that was my favorite entomologist. He smirked as he poured his own coffee into another one of the now seemingly multiplying tarantula mugs.

If he'd been looking at me, he would have been blinded by the full white toothy grin on my face when I say, "Sure, no problem." I flip my hair back in a girly motion then I sashay out of the break-room, leaving three open mouthed men in my wake.

"Damn!" came the sound of Nick's voice, but I assume it was something to do with the video game not in comparison to my feminine wiles.

Again, I breeze down the hall, this time to Grissom's office. I really don't think my feet hit the floor on the way there. I sat down in the chair in front of his desk, but I'm not really sure as I felt him enter just behind me. My body was buzzing with excitement.

I am incapable of speech as I watch him pace around me. He is wearing a short sleeved shirt; his forearms are the stuff of fantasies. He seems nervous, but then hey, I wasn't the one who slipped into the others apartment and spooned with them all night long.

I want to say something, but he stopped pacing then and took my face into his hands. His sapphire eyes are boring a hole into the windows of my soul and I realize without being peturbed, that he is the owner of my soul and has been since the first time I laid eyes on him.

I watch his mouth move, but no words spill out. He clears his throat and repeated the gesture, this time the words, "I'm sorry," penetrate my brain. I shake my head obtusely not knowing what he is talking about.

He clears his throat again, "I'm sorry for leaving. I got a page on the Jackson case. I was planning to make love to you this morning, if you had been amendable to the situation." Then he leans in slightly and captures my lips with his. This kiss is soft, gentle and all together too short. He pulls away, his eyes never leaving mine. "Would that have been okay with you?"

I nod, still incapable of the basic functions of speech, but I did want another kiss so I took one or two or a hundred. When we pulled apart, Grissom smiled. It was almost the same smile as the one he uses when he knows something about a case and the rest of us don't and he wanted us to figure it out on our own; like the cat who ate the canary.

"I take that as a yes," his voice soft with emotion and his lips look thoroughly swollen and red and all I want to do was kiss him again and again, so I do.

We pull apart again, this time I looked at the clock, "It's time for shift to begin..." I began, but instead I ask, "Why now?" Hoping against hope that I hadn't spoiled the moment.

"I realized I couldn't live another moment without you in my life in a much more personal and intimate way."

My mouth drops open. If I was speechless before, then now I am completely without the ability to make sounds. I am dazed. Did he just say he couldn't live without me? I felt like jumping for joy, so I did, straight into his arms.

We hold each other for a few moments, his personal scent is so intoxicating. Before too long I felt I was capable of speech. My voice is a bit hoarse but I creaked out: "It wasn't a dream, was it?"

"No." He pauses for a moment before kissing me once on the nose. "Now, let's go stop the boys from playing games on company time. Then we'll work, then we'll go home...together."

I return the kiss on his nose. "Sounds like a plan."

THE END

A/N: The quote is from an old Muddy Waters song, I just can't remember which one. If anyone happens to know, let me know; it's sort of bugging me.