A/N: I'm not sure where this fic came from, exactly, but it was probably from the vicinity of my angst-loving beta reader. Thanks for the inspiration, hun.
Self Esteem
He sat up in his narrow bed and swung his legs onto the floor, observing the room around him. It was small, and the white walls were plastered with poster hailing from his college days – ha, that made him sound so old. No, he was barely thirty, and he'd been mistaken for younger. Not like Grissom. He smiled bitterly. He wasn't like Grissom at all. Maybe that's why she'd come to him the first time.
2 Weeks Earlier
Greg picked up the shot glass and downed it's contents, motioning for the barkeep to bring another. In the past month, life had gotten suddenly hard for the Greg; suddenly he'd grown up. He'd noticed the same changes in someone else at the lab, too.
The barkeeper brought another drink, and Greg – his chin resting on his hand – brought it to his lips.
"Hey Greg."
A familiar voice greeted the young man from behind, but he didn't turn around. Then, a familiar person hopped nonchalantly onto the stool beside him. The familiar person ordered a drink for herself and another vodka for Greg.
"Sara." he said, in reply.
They sipped their drinks in comfortable silence. 'How did she know that I come here? What does she want?' Greg wondered, but he didn't let it show. Sara was half the reason that he was here, trying to drink himself into oblivion. Now she'd shown up, invading his personal time, and ordering him drinks.
They ordered a couple more drinks over the next half-hour.
At about six o'clock in the evening, Sara had leaned over and whispered into Greg's ear. "Let's go home, Greg." They caught a cab, and ended up at Greg's apartment. In his inebriated state, he hadn't realised what Sara really wanted him for, and he didn't protest when she started kissing him. Then things got out of hand.
When she was done with him, Sara got out of bed and picked up her clothes. "Where are you going?" Greg asked, bemused.
"Home." Sara replied, pulling on her jacket. "I'll let myself out.
Since that night at the bar, Sara turned up at Greg's apartment every night, and the routine rarely differed. She knocked on the door, sometimes drunk but usually sober, and he let her in. He hated himself for letting her in – somehow he knew he would hate himself more for turning her away.
I wrote her off for the tenth time today
And practiced all the things I would say
But she came over I lost my nerve
I took her back and made her dessert
And God, he knew that it was just sex; that it meant nothing. He had no illusions with regards to the fact that Sara was still in love with Grissom, either.
Now I know I'm being used
That's okay man cause I like the abuse
I know she's playing with me
That's okay cause I've got no self esteem
Even so, Greg had once tried to make something more of the 'relationship', asking her out to dinner at an expensive restaurant. She didn't show up. He put it down to work, and forgave her. Despite that, he went home and let himself cry for the first time since the explosion in the lab.
We make plans to go out at night
I wait till 2 then I turn out the light
All this rejection's got me so low
If she keeps it up I just might tell her so
Present Day
It was around seven or eight in the evening, the day she'd stood him up. He was lying on his bed, wiping a few errant tears off of his face. He hated himself for letting Sara do this to him. Besides, how the hell had she gotten from happy, radiant Sara, to this person? This person he didn't know? He heaved a dry sob, clutching the duvet tightly in his fist. Then he heard the knocking on his door.
Late at night she knocks on my door
Drunk again and looking to score
Now I know I should say no
But that's kind of hard when she's ready to go-
"Hi Greg." she was smiling, swaying slightly where she stood. Greg looked her up and down.
"Go home Sara. Just go home."