A/N. I read an article this afternoon about WP's upcoming role in a play as an alcoholic funeral worker and it made me to wonder what a drunk Grissom would be like. I didn't know where this story would lead when I typed the first line, but it led me here. It's short and unedited, so my apologies for any errors. Danie

Drunk on Love

"Hi," Grissom purred as Sara opened her door to him. It was only one word, but there was no mistaking its salacious inflection…or his lascivious posture; forearm propped up against her doorframe, his other hand casually dipped into his trouser pocket—the same trousers, and shirt and jacket he'd been wearing at work several hours ago.

Sara blinked, her eyes widening as she looked up and caught the glint in his candid gaze, the dilated pupils, and the suggestive half-smile on his lips.

"Are you going to let me in?" he asked, sending a whiff of alcohol to her nostrils.

Stepping back, Sara watched as he languidly straightened from his pose and ambled into her apartment. She closed the door.

"Are you drunk?" It would have been a rhetorical question for anyone else. But Grissom, drunk, defied reason.

He chuckled under his breath and swiveled around, his body rocking slightly on its axis as he did so. Reaching out, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her body flush to his. "I might be," he whispered, his lips seeking the sensitive flesh at the junction of her neck and shoulder with bone-melting purpose. His nibbles sent an involuntary shiver along her skin, and Sara closed her eyes, for a moment simply enjoying being wrapped so firmly in his arms, especially after his sudden withdrawal from her in recent days.

But the reality of an inebriated Grissom showing up at her apartment in the middle of the night distracted her. "How did you get here?" she asked suspiciously.

Having found the hem of her camisole, his warm hands flattened over her lower back then began a single-minded journey upward, his thumbs teasing the flesh at her sides, making her nipples harden and burn in response. "Hm?"

"Tell me you didn't drive here," Sara said, gasping as his lips found her jaw and his tongue snaked out to taste her skin just below her ear.

"I didn't drive here."

"Then how—"

"Brass dropped me off."

"Grissom!"

His lips found her ear lobe and sucked it into his mouth. "Grissom, Grissom, Grissom," he complained before pulling back and finding her other ear to play with. "Will I ever be anything other than Grissom to you, Sara?"

"It's your name. And don't change the subject." Sara grasped his face between her hands and forcibly made him look at her. His eyes were glinting with amusement and so much hunger it made her wonder why she was still talking. Still, when he moved to kiss her, she carefully avoided his lips. "Don't you think Brass will wonder why you wanted to be dropped off here in the middle of the night?"

He gave her a sheepish look. "I might have told him that I'm in love with you."

Sara caught her breath and Grissom, surprisingly agile for a man who wasn't in full possession of his faculties, quickly dipped his head and covered her parted lips with his mouth, kissing her so thoroughly that she felt the heat of it to the very tip of her toes. Her head rolled back as his lips left hers and sought her neck again. His thumbs found their way to her nipples and she hissed in pleasure.

Chuckling, he drew back, and his gaze roamed down to her breasts. Flashing a satisfied grin, he said, "Well, well, well, I finally have your attention."

Sara couldn't decide whether he was really drunk, or only pretending to be so he could toy with her. Either way, he was doing things to her heart that she'd only dreamed of, so when his hands glided up her body, taking her camisole with them, she lifted her arms and let him slip it over her head.

With another glazed but hungry look at her naked breasts, he wrapped her in his arms and walked her back into her living room, stumbling when the back of her legs hit the couch. He tumbled down on top of her, and his weight knocked the breath from her. With a muttered apology, he eased off her a little and his mouth south her neck, sucked in earnest.

But as much as Sara was enjoying his ardent lovemaking, she had to stop him or she'd be wearing turtle necks to work for a week. "Grissom…"

He sighed. "Here we go with the Grissom again."

She smiled. "What would you rather I call you?"

He lifted his head and squinted in mock concentration, and then his eyes widened brilliantly. "Stud."

She laughed, enjoying this new, silly side of him. If Brass had a hand in getting him drunk, she'd have to thank him, except… it had loosened Grissom's tongue a little too much.

"I can't believe you said that to him," she said, thinking out loud.

"Said what to whom?"

"Told Brass that you're in love with me."

"Oh that." He shrugged as though it wasn't a big deal and buried his face in her neck again, the light stubble on his cheeks scratching at her skin.

She sighed. What was this fascination with her neck tonight? "What did he say?"

"Will you shut up already?" He grabbed her ass and tugged, pressing her pelvis suggestively to his groin. "In case it wasn't clear when I stripped you of half your clothes and pinned you to your couch, Ms. Sidle, I'm very aroused and my desire for your cooperation was more than implied."

Sara laughed. "Not a chance, stud boy. You can't tell Brass you're in love with me before you even tell me and not expect me to ask questions."

"Mmm." His hand let go of her ass and he flicked the tip of her nose with his index finger. "Good point." Suddenly, he was off her and scrambling unsteadily to his feet. Sara was about to protest when he shrugged off his jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes never leaving hers. "He said, tell me something I don't know." Grissom snickered. "Honey, do you know how many things I know that Brass doesn't know?" He removed his shirt and let it fall to the floor then stepped out of his shoes. Unbuckling his belt, her stud rambled on. "The breadth of what I know that Brass doesn't know boggles the mind."

Okay, he was definitely drunk, Sara decided, schooling her features into a mask of serious interest despite the fact that he was circumventing her point by a mile.

Grissom unbuttoned his trousers and lowered his zipper, letting his pants fall to the floor, inevitably drawing Sara's gaze to the very desirable part of his anatomy trapped in his snug boxer briefs. She had to drag her eyes back up to his face, and when she did, what she saw there really did knock the breath from her. His gaze had softened with something so profoundly affectionate that her heart skipped and tumbled all at once.

His voice softened as he continued. "If I even attempted to explain a basic physiological phenomenon such as what happens in a man's brain when he finally realizes he's so completely in love with a woman that he can't imagine life without her, Brass would probably roll his eyes and say, yeah, yeah, yeah, and walk away." He lowered himself to the couch and stretched out beside her. "It's a frightening thing, honey. And I've been an idiot." He fell silent, waiting for a response, but one wouldn't get past the clog of emotion in her throat.

"Now would be a good time to say something," he urged softly.

Swallowing her emotions, Sara lifted a hand and caressed his cheek. "You're not really drunk, are you?"

He chuckled nervously. "Okay. Not what I was hoping for. But to answer your question, no…except perhaps a little drunk on love." And as though belatedly realizing how clichéd that sounded, his lids snapped shut and he shook his head.

But to Sara, nothing could have sounded more original. "I'm a little drunk on it too," she admitted.

Grissom grinned. "That's better." Then, his expression turning serious, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her so passionately, so thoroughly, it left her breathless.

When his lips eventually started moving down to her throat, she whispered, "Grissom?"

He groaned. "Seriously, Sara, you have to stop calling me that."

"Okay...Stud." He chuckled and gently sunk his teeth into her shoulder. "Did you really tell Brass you're in love with me?"

"Yep."

"You know, that's not very stealthy of you."

"I know." He drew back and looked at her. "About that…would it be okay with you if we came out?"

Sara wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. "I thought you'd never ask. But...ask me again tomorrow."

THE END