Title: The Spot
Author: JungleMag
Rating: K
Spoilers: Season 7
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or anything else exciting, please don't sue me.
Summary: A little plot bunny that wouldn't go away. Greg discovers the GSR. Thanks to CSIdleGSR for being the awesome beta that she is! Enjoy:D
Greg Sanders loves Sara Sidle. Not in a brotherly, kiss on the cheek sort of way; the full on, rip your clothes off, sweat dripping kind of way. Of course, over the years, since Sara never seemed to really reciprocate his feelings, he learned to control them.
Sure, he'd still steal glances, the occasional stare at her ass, allowing himself to smell her hair. But he gave up on kisses (except, of course, the brotherly kind), grabs, touches, sex. But, when he really needed a Sara fix, he'd concentrate on her collarbone. There was something about Sara Sidle's collarbone that could drive a sane man crazy. The long, graceful neck, the milky, blemish free skin, the tendons that peaked through every time her head turned; oh how he longed to latch on to that spot and never let go.
Greg noticed enough of Sara to know when she was angry, or happy, or sad. It seemed over the past year or so, she had a lot more happy days than usual. He wasn't sure if she'd taken up tae bo or learned to cross stitch, but whatever it was, it was working for her.
Wendy was out sick one night and Greg was picking up the slack in the DNA lab. It'd been a relatively quiet evening, with Sara hanging out, leaning over a magazine. She was babbling something about a Blondie reunion tour and that they should go when he noticed it. That spot, HIS spot on her gorgeous, angular neck was bruised, maybe even, no...not Sara. Sara Sidle doesn't get hickeys! Or does she? He quickly glanced elsewhere so as not to draw attention to it, but it was almost magnetic. He almost couldn't look away. It was so...there.
His attention was finally diverted when Grissom entered the room. He was saying something about a case involving an ice cream truck and an Elvis impersonator and that it looked like everyone would be working overtime tonight. He turned to leave, but when he passed by Sara, he stopped. He seemed to mumble something into his folder, causing her to blush and instinctively rub that spot on her collarbone.
Sometimes it really sucks to be paid to notice things. All of a sudden, Greg really wanted to puke. That's why she's been so freaking happy! She's getting laid! By Grissom! Grissom was sucking on Greg's, er, Sara's collarbone! The only place on the beauty that was Sara Sidle that Greg allowed himself to covet. Grissom gave Sara a hickey! Oh, this was bad, no, this was disgusting! If Grissom was giving Sara hickeys, then he must be using his mouth on other parts of her body, and this was entirely too much for Greg to comprehend.
He quickly turned, hoping for something, anything to make him look busy when his results popped out of the ink jet. Bouncing towards the door, he leaned into Sara, mentioning that next time Grissom should apply slightly less pressure above the shoulders. Now who wants to puke?