Wake up, bloodshot eyes, trouble to memorize, the way it felt between your thighs…
He slowly pulled into consciousness, groaning and rubbing his eyes. He felt stiff, groggy, and…oh yeah, headache. Damn hangover. From his left, in a voice actually bearable to hear, was the sweetest voice he would probably ever hear:
"Morning sweetie," and upon noticing the redness of his eyes and crinkling of his brow, "need water or aspirin?" In her voice swirled a slight smugness paired with her own genuine compassion, and a hint of a giggle.
With a grunt, as he rolled to face his beauteous lover, he muttered, "Both. And… pancakes?" He was like a little child asking for ice cream when he had a sore throat, and she couldn't help but laugh, not at him but near him.
"Of course. Anything for you baby… especially after last night." She leaned over, pressing a kiss into his forehead, then disentangled herself from the bedsheets. Pausing long enough to shrug into Grissom's baby blue button down shirt, (her only covering, mind you) she set about making her bugman's hangover as bearable as possible.
He was left slightly confuzzled by her comment about last night, as his memory was slightly retarded this morning. After brining him painkillers and a generous glass of ice water, Sara went to work on Gil's favorite chocolate pancakes. His favorite, I should clarify, hangover food. Grissom shuffled his way first to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and then to the living room for proximity to food and lover, trying to jog his recollection of the previous night.
He saw clearly their dinner of Chinese on the coffee table. Not the most romantic, but it was their favorite way to spend a night off together. He remembered an old boring movie that they'd talked and made out through ( the reason we still have boring movies today)… Had he suggested the drinking game or had she?
"Every time one of us can't name the source of the other's quote, we take a shot…"
It had gotten a little bit out of hand, obviously… and Sara had always been able to hold her liquor better than he, obviously…but what had happened after that?
A rainbow of colors, sensations, and flashes of light and sound spiraled in his brain, but there was no structure to be put to them. What had happened after that…
"You look confused," she smirked, sitting on the coffee table in front of him, breaking him from his reverie.
"I suppose I am," he said, " Having a little trouble remembering…"
"The way it felt between my thighs?" She laughed brightly at his shocked expression.
"W-what?"
"Nothing, honey, nothing. Just a song. Events of last night a little fuzzy there, huh?"
"Yeah…although, I think I have a pretty good guess now of what I've forgotten, thanks to your colorful little remark."
She studied him for a moment, a sexy glint in her eye, pondering something, and chewing the inside of her lip. Then, "Would you like some help remembering?"
Without waiting for an answer, she slid over to straddle is lap, and latch her pouty mouth onto his manly neck.
His memory had always been very good. Sometimes it just needed a little…stimulation!
FIN