Title: Trafficking
Author: Alison Nixon
Rating: PG-13
Category: Parody/Angst - GSR
Spoilers: None
Summary: What can I tell you? It's a geek world gone mad.
Disclaimers: The usual. None of the characters are mine. They belong to CBS, Anthony Zuiker, et al.
Feedback: Of course!
Archival: Sure, just let me know where it's going.
Author's Notes: Well, consider this vignette the evidence of a delusional mind… or perhaps, one subjected to certain "no romance" arguments against a GSR. Heh. I'm not sure how I decided to go in this specific direction, but hey, once you're there, you're there. Hope you like it. ;-) Oh, and a big thank-you to Devanie for her encouraging words!
*******
Grissom leaned in close, taking a long look at his girl from his position behind her. She was staring intently at a slide she had placed under the microscope a few moments earlier. He was sure that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, which was left exposed by her upswept hair. The quick puckering of those fine, downy hairs into gooseflesh assured him of that.
"So what you have got?"
She blew the air out of her lungs in one quick burst. "Squat. No, make that diddly-squat, to be precise." Her fingers gripped the metal tabletop as if it was the neck of an attacker. "I just can't believe that all of these little guys are dead. It's the husband who's infertile, not her lover."
She lifted her head from the eyepiece. "She and the husband are in it together, I just know it. She claims that the lover was alive and well when she left him that night, and that she didn't see him again before he was killed. But…"
He could see her body tensing further as she muttered this last thought, more to herself than to him. The suspect's attitude had really gotten under her skin, which Grissom could understand. She seemed to have incited her husband to kill her lover for the sheer thrill of knowing she could, but it was going to be extremely difficult to prove.
Nick had told him that he and Sara had hit a roadblock in the investigation, and asked for his help. But he was having a hard time focusing on the matter at hand. She was just so sexy when she was angry.
It wasn't hard to tell from her body language that she was pretty wound up. He'd sensed the tension just by running his eyes over her lean form from the doorway before he came in. Sara could be a little hard to handle when she was this frustrated, but he knew what to do.
He stepped closer to her, as close as he could without actually laying his front against her back. He stretched his arms out around her, curving his hands around the angled table edge on either side of her body. His kept his arms bent slightly at the elbow, careful not to let either arm actually touch her. She had stayed still as he re-positioned himself, so she was now neatly caged. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to simply wrap his arms around her waist and hold her against him. When they were alone in the dark, the game started exactly like this.
He had to be careful, though. The view from the glass walls surrounding them was only partially obscured by shelving and cabinets. Even though he would never risk exposing them to censure at work, anyone who saw him trap her in this way would still have found his behavior extremely suggestive. He steadied his voice.
"What can I do?"
He heard a harsh-sounding sigh and watched as the muscles in her back rose and fell.
"Nothing. I'll … I'll figure it out. I just have to rethink the whole thing from start to finish."
"Well, talk it out with me. Tell me what you know so far. Not what you think, but what you know."
"I appreciate it, Grissom. But I'm really not in the mood to go over everything right now…I feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin, I'm so pissed." She raised one hand to her head. "Maybe later, OK?"
Things must really have tanked with this case. She never turned down the chance to talk through her thoughts with him.
He looked up and quickly scanned the hallway outside. No one was nearby at the moment. He moved infinitesimally closer and let his black jacket brush her back.
"Was there just a dimensional shift in this room?"
He directed his quizzical expression at the back of her head.
"I can only assume that space-time must have just collapsed, because apparently there is absolutely nowhere else for you to be right now, except on my ass. "
He froze.
"What?"
"You heard me."
He spoke slowly, as if drawing out each word would reverse time.
"I heard you, but … I didn't understand you."
She coiled herself even more tightly. "Well then, let me spell it out for you. Step away from the Plant."
He was quite sure he didn't like hearing his pet name for her included in that sentence at all.
"I'd like my personal space back, all right? Is that possible?" Her voice rose. "I should have nipped this in the bud when it first started. At first I thought it was just coincidence that you always managed to back me up against some table or wall, or crowd me at the computer. Then I thought it was cute." She swiveled her head to look at him. "Now it just gets on my damn nerves."
"But…but, you always like it at home…"
"Yeah, well, I'm reconsidering that too."
She could see his lower teeth, his mouth was so wide open.
"You've had it real easy, haven't you? Now you're spoiled. Well, tough love has arrived. We are officially on the traffic system."
His mind was awhirl. What was that she said?
"The traffic—"
"The traffic system, Grissom. Just like in the military. It's red light, green light, yellow light from now on." She stared at him, hard. "Consider yellow to be the operational baseline."
A tiny piece of spittle dribbled from his lower lip onto his chin. His autonomic nervous system kicked in and he closed his mouth.
"Yellow?" Sweet Jesus.
"Yellow."
She's got be kidding, he told himself shakily. She's just teasing; she probably sat up all night last night planning this little mind game. He ran his eyes over her face, looking for clues. Her eyes were frosty, but her skin was slightly flushed and she was breathing through her mouth with slightly parted lips. Her breath tickled his chin with every slight heave of her chest. Like he always said, the evidence never lies. He raised his eyes to hers again and smiled in the way he knew she loved. He couldn't kiss her in this open place, but the threat would be enough. His hand lightly grasped her wrist as he leaned forward.
"Red light." It was like a slap.
"Come again?"
"Big, honking, hell hath no fury, are you colorblind, RED LIGHT!"
He stepped back. Way back.
"Sara, calm down. You know you always let cases get to you, and so maybe you're just upset…you've been out of sorts ever since—"
She took two lightning steps forward and her put her face in his. "Ever since when?"
"…Ever since you came back from that conference in New York," he answered meekly. "You know, the physiological effects of jet lag can last for days for some people. It would be unusual for you to still be suffering from it two days after your flight if the literature on the subject is to be trusted, but…" He paused, desperate for the right phrase. "You're an unusual woman."
She looked ready to bite.
"Back off, Gris. Just back off."
Then she was gone. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn she sprouted wings and flew.
He had a serious problem.
*****
It occurred to Grissom that the tables had officially been turned. This time, she had him backed up against the wall, pinned among his precious butterflies.
"And another thing. I'm tired of doing it every night."
He dared a smug laugh. "Not possible. You love it too much not to.
"Love it? I can't even lie down in bed without you jumping all over me. Even when I try to pretend I'm asleep, you just keep on nibbling until you get a response. Oh yeah, and I could do without those early morning requests from little "Mr. Buddha," too. 'Angel of the morning,' my ass—I hate that song now, thanks to you," she growled. "I can't even sleep in on my days off anymore. Tell me, is it possible for me to at least have a cup of coffee before you get your freak on?
"Sara!"
"Don't 'Sara' me! I've had it." She crossed her arms decisively. "Consider yourself cut off."
He felt faint. Was the room spinning?
"You, you…you can't mean it."
"I said it, which means I meant it." Her smile was cruel.
"But you said you liked it!" His voice sounded whiny, even to his own ears. "Or at least, you sounded like you liked it."
"That's beside the point. If you think I'm going to sit back and get dumbed down by your libido, think again. I know what you're up to, and I'm launching a preemptive strike. A total and complete lockdown."
"But, but...that's not fair, Sara!"
She had already started to walk away, when she turned face him again at the sound of her name. Her look was one of triumph. "Welcome to my world."
Nooooo!!
He shot up, bathed in sweat. His eyes darted frantically through the dark, searching for something familiar. Where was he? What was he?
He nearly screamed when she rolled over to face him.
"Hey baby…something wrong?" Her voice was slurry with sleep.
He stared at her with wild eyes.
She blinked. "You look like hell."
"I've been in hell."
"What happened? Was it a nightmare?" It was difficult to make out his face in the darkness. She extended one arm behind her and grasped the pull cord for the lamp.
"No!" He lunged forward and grabbed her arm. Before she could speak, he had wrapped both arms around her waist and lifted her torso up against his.
"No lights."
He was squeezing her like a drowning man. It was hard to breathe with her face pressed into his chest. "Msmph."
"What?" He put his fingers under her chin to free her mouth.
"I said…OK." She gave him a doubtful look. Was it possible that he was even more dysfunctional than she thought? She sighed. It was a good thing she knew how to talk to the mentally disturbed.
"I mean, good grief, Gris. I already said I'd change all the bulbs to the exact brand and wattage you have in your house if it would make you feel more comfortable. I'll even take out my cute colored "mood bulbs," which I really loved, by the way." She paused, a little sad. "So does this really have to ruin our first night together in my house?"
Her place. First time. His safe and orderly life. The beginning of the end…
His body sagged and he fell back against the unfamiliar pillows, taking her with him. It had all been so horribly real…Sara torturing him, the end of the game, the damned traffic lights…
He felt her lips on his forehead. They kept their seal on his skin for a long, sweet moment. A soft, inarticulate noise rose from somewhere deep inside, and escaped his lips. Thank God. It was all a dream.
"But I'm keeping the red one. Just in case."
Horrified, he dragged her down so that he could see her face.
She was already laughing.
"Gotcha."
(Fin)