After stepping out from the bathroom shadows of room 114, Gil Grissom took in the leaning pile of manila folders and case files, balancing on the standard motel table, before lowering himself into a defeated pose on the equally standard king bed, his body tired and tense.
He contemplated for a while why his lamp was still illuminating the stack at 3 am after his having just pulled a double. Surely the rest of the team had crashed in their rooms soon after stepping out from hot showers – the need to rinse off the remnants of rural crime no different from that of urban Vegas: Blood, murder and mayhem still go hand in hand after all.
Hand in hand…the words set his mind adrift.
Turning his palms over, looking at his hands reminded him of how little actual hands-on investigative work he was able to do these days compared to how things had been years ago.
The first time he had met Sara, for instance, had been during a San Fran guest lecture series on entomology, the seminar a prime example of what had used to be his only distraction from actual fieldwork back in the days. At least this case had demanded the whole team, even left them stranded out here over night.
No, nowadays it was paperwork and politics.
-Well, in all honesty, Sara had been quite the distraction too.
Her
hand that day was still a vivid image in his mind.
Hers
had been the only hand to cradle his Tarantula specimen after that
last lecture, the only hand to hold absolutely still as the arachnid
had followed her lifeline across her palm as if instinctively
searching for clues.
A perfectly still hand with the power to move you…the anomaly truly fascinating.
—Oh, and yes: Sara is still quite the distraction.
III
The orange carpet of room 116, murder central, thankfully had a brownish pattern interspersed, leaving at least the less obvious stains out of the immediate sensory absorption field.
Not that Sara Sidle's mind could not infer what was beneath the surface, but this was not a time to think on your feet, nor with them, so one bare foot in front of the other Sara made it over to the foot-end of the king bed where she fell back, towel clad and exhausted.
Dazed and cold she woke and rolled over, forcing her eyes to shut out the lamp-light while at the same time attempting to glance over at the clock radio.
3:13 am – great…
She half-consciously fumbled toward the door and flicked the light switch off with her elbow before re-tracing her steps to the bed.
"Fuck!"
—stumping her toe against the base of
the room's lone table in the process.
The
covers were pulled back more harshly than necessary just in time for
the sheets to welcome her naked form, damp towel dropping to the
floor.
She
surrounded herself with the cool cotton, trying to regain her former
state of slumber, when she unexpectedly discovered she was not alone.
The sharp sensation against her buttock startled her out of any former sleep state, the feeling much like rolling over a day-old breadcrumb.
In the shadows of the dark she could make out the silhouette of what looked to be a fairly large spider as it scurried toward the wall and disappeared behind the headboard, obviously offended.
"Oh
shit!"
—she
ran into the small bathroom and cursed the constantly blinking
fluorescent light, the intermittent greenish-tinted glow doing little
to aid her in assessing her backside.
Not that the one in-wall mounted mirror reflecting a frowned face, as well as most of her chest if she took one step back into the narrow door, would be any more helpful.
III
The
quick succession of raps on his door got him out of the cool sheets,
having finally just turned his boxer-and-tee clad self in hoping for
a few hours of restless sleep.
Who
the hell would be at his door this time of night, here?
He carefully avoided the table on his way to the door and hesitantly opened it after seeing nothing through the peephole – probably just a prankster.
"Sara?"
"Uhm, I…did I wake you?" Her voice was faint, reflecting the early hour. He followed suit.
"Hmmm? Oh, no actually, uh – I had just turned out the lights." Her hands were shaking.
"Are you…okay?"
"I don't know, I…spider – I think I may have been bitten by a spider."
His
eyes widened, questioningly.
"Where?"
"In my room, I…"
"—no,
I mean where did it bite you?"
Oh,she hadn't thought about that…
"Mmmm, well it… Actually, may I use your bathroom? —Please."
He
was still minimally clothed, with the door and the darkness serving
only as temporary barriers.
"Give
me one sec here, okay. Do you have it?" he said, voice a bit
strained by his efforts to dress himself.
"Have what, the spider?"
"Yeah."
"No it fled, disappeared behind the headboard into the wall I guess?"
He
had pulled on his slacks as fast as he could and returned for the
door.
"Okay,
I'll find it. Did you see what kind it was?"
When he closed the door briefly to undo the safety-latch he missed the dumbfounded expression on Sara's face.
"What!
NO, it was dark, I – it was the surprising kind, okay?
Look, I really need to use your bathroom – it'll only take a sec
I promise."
He
had opened the door for her now and she slipped by him and right into
the bathroom – he heard the lock turn. She was getting nervous.
"You
didn't tell me where it got you. I can likely identify punctures,
if present."
He
hoped there weren't any of course, but it was certainly a
possibility.
His
voice spoke up a little to make sure she heard him through the door.
"You
don't want to take bites out here too lightly Sara; there is the
Black Widow to worry about and occasionally a traveling Brown
Recluse."
"Gee,
thanks Grissom. You are making me feel so much better."
It
hurt a little and never having been bitten before she didn't really
have a frame of reference for what would constitute a 'bad' bite,
if a bite at all.
From what he could tell she was scrambling in the small, enclosed space.
"Sara,
we really need to go look for the spider before it disappears, we
don't want to lose track of it. It's a lot easier to evaluate
the…"
The
bathroom door opened just wide enough to put her hand through, key
dangling from the end of it.
"—116,
I'll be right there, just…"
The
in-wall mirror in his bathroom of course was no different than hers,
although the light was better.
"I'm going out to the car for my kit, I have both our keys. Will you be okay?"
"I'm fine, go. —Thanks."
III
Other
than her shaking hands, all he had seen was that she had on black
running tights and a mottled rust colored tank. Probably from her
gym bag, they hadn't expected to stay out here after all.
And
she was barefoot – he did notice that.
116
was just like 114, no surprise there, except for the light flickering
from the bathroom and a few of Sara's things.
He
had been right – her green duffle bag sat atop the round table.
Next
to the bed, on the floor, was a damp towel in a heap. He picked it
up and shook it gently for arachnid evidence; none suspected, none
evident.
There
were still traces of Sara's scent in the fibers, probably from
having used her own body wash.
"Grissom?"
The door shutting brought him out of his
olfactory induced daze.
Their
eyes met and held for a brief moment before he brought the 'Chutes
and Ladders' printed beach towel from his face holding it out to
her.
"Yours?"
"Uh, gift from Greg – I never played though." She stood awkwardly in the doorway staring down at her fidgety toes.
"—And I'm certain he reminds you of that every so often."
Her
shy smile took some of the pressure off him; she likely would have
been in more pain than she seemed to be at this point in time if she
had in fact had an adverse bite.
And
Sara's scent had undeniably emboldened him somewhat.
"I'll play sometime, as long as there's no swimming involved," he gave her that Grissom smirk, "…or spiders."
Snapping her head up to look at him her heart rate seemed to have doubled in an instant.
"No
spiders, right!"
She
sucked in a lungful of air.
"Mmmm, do you have your field mirror in your kit by any chance?"
"Help
yourself, have whatever you need."
At
that she sent him a curious sideways glance before snatching the
mirror out of his kit and heading back into the bathroom for take
three.
He noticed the sheets had hardly been slept in, smooth still with the covers pulled barely halfway down the bed. Having gathered part of the cover in his hand he pulled it back carefully and instantly spotted the fuzzy stick-like object that appeared. Using his forceps he clamped down on the frail specimen and brought it over to the lamplight by the table.
Not
harmless, but definitely not really harmful either – Grissom could
not help but grin from his discovery.
She
had made a 'sept-o-pod' out of an unfortunate, and previously
eight-legged, Wolf spider. Sara never did anything halfway,
why would this time be any different?
The bathroom door pulled open forcefully, switching his attention to where she stood in the doorway — a vision fronting a backdrop of seizure inducing light.
"Dammit!"
She
stepped out with a frown bordering on a pout bordering on angry
tears.
"I'm
stuck in this dirty, run-down spider-infested hole of a motel with a
bathroom the size of a tiny useless mirror"
she huffed,
"and
with a spider bite I can't tell if exists to boot."
She sat down defiantly on the edge of the bed before immediately bouncing back, as if all of a sudden remembering what had gotten her in this mess in the first place.
"Shit! Dammit, did you check that yet?"
He looked amused. "I did."
She glared at him. "…aaaand?"
"Lycosidae – Wolf spider."
"You FOUND it?"
"Not
exactly."
He
sat down by the round table and rested his head in his hand looking
at her. One elbow on the table and flirty knowledge practically
radiating from his blue eyes.
"Grissom…"
The
stress of the situation combined with Grissom's
rather…bold…behavior, was starting to wear down her defenses.
She
just wanted to go to bed – yet she was standing in a motel room,
her motel room, after having
just pulled a double, looking at Gil Grissom illuminated by a lone
lamp - at 3:42 am.
Did she dare contemplate what this might imply?
With a heavy sigh he spoke up.
"Sara,
honey,"
he looked to her pleadingly,
"…a
Wolf's bite around here is usually harmless, unless you have an
allergy or ignore it and leave it to fester. If you don't want me
to look I understand, but then we should take you to a medical
facility – just to rule it out."
"I
SAT on it Grissom."
Just
like that, all matter-of-factly.
"Huh, that explains the permanently dislocated leg. Don't worry, judging by the size of it this guy is fairly young – his leg will regenerate."
Her
perplexed look gave way to speech.
"How
do you do it Grissom?"
"Do wh…"
"—Stear the conversation away from the welfare of my butt to the welfare of a spider."
"I'm an entomologist?"
Looking
sheepish he added:
"But
I'm also an excellent study, eager to learn – if you'll let
me."
If
the thought of having Gil Grissom look at her naked cheek was
awkward, then the logistics and planning of how to go about it were
simply ridiculous.
This
was definitely not how she had envisioned this moment over the past
years.
Sara's only comfort was that this 'dilemma' seemed no more trivial to Grissom than it did to her, and they both acknowledged the fact that it wasn't.
It was also blatantly obvious at this point that a potential spider bite was not responsible for their quickening breaths, flushed cheeks and darkening eyes, and the electricity in the room would cater to fireflies rather than spiders. They finally acknowledged this as well.
When
he had brought up the issue of protection she had informed him she
was on the pill, and as far as anything else goes she admitted to
trusting him after ten years.
Talking
to him about this had not been as strange as she had feared and she
felt somewhat good about knowing that they could at least do some
things right after all.
Wrapped
only in chutes and ladders she sauntered out of the bathroom, trying
to look more confident than she felt.
Spider
bite all but forgotten.
He had said he had wanted to play, well – game is on.
III
"You look…"
"—nervous?"
Her bashful admission made his breath catch.
"Healthy.
Definitely healthy."
She
smiled at that.
Reeled
to her by his eyes he got up from the table and closed the gap
between them, eyes never wavering.
As
he sat them both down on the edge of the bed before turning to her,
his touch on her bare shoulders made her shiver.
"Are
you sure you are okay about this?"
He
gently caressed her cheek, letting his thumb trail by the corner of
her left eye to rest at her temple.
"Yes."
There was nothing, if not honesty, within the darkening hazel gazing back at him.
"Are you?"
Grissom
confirmed with a small nod, tucked a strand of her hair behind her
right ear and held her while he placed a tender kiss on her lips.
"You're
beautiful."
Her
eyelids descended like a movie screen and endless images of perceived
first kisses flew by leaving her dizzy.
He
kissed her again and the sheer intensity of it opened her eyes to a
sensual second kiss.
She never had gotten to a second kiss in her infinite thoughts and now; now she could not figure out why. First kisses are usually so discomfited.
Either way the second one was a first and that is how she was going to keep it – on a blank canvas all to itself.
Tracing
his lips with her index finger she felt herself staring at him; his
nose, his eyebrows, his beard, his little scars and bumps.
As
the smooth texture absorbed by her fingertip changed to stubble she
leaned in and reclaimed his lips.
Feeling him, tasting him, looking for what cannot be seen…
…a mouth so much more eloquent when not uttering a word.
His
fingers began at number one, moving along her towel carefully
including the ladders and chutes by way of mimicry.
As
his hand followed around to her back she slowly folded her legs under
her and turned past him to where she was halfway on the bed sitting
back on one heel, her back mostly to him. He repeated certain
patterns that had earned him a moan or a hitch.
Up
a ladder, down a chute.
Down
a chute, up a ladder.
-Again
and again moving his hands around her.
He
was not looking to her eyes and she knew he could not do so – yet.
She
knew why. His control was slowly faltering.
Her need to see him and feel him was too much.
With her left hand she found his forearm and slowly tracing her fingers along the trembling muscle let her fingertips glide up his bare left arm, as far as she could get up his neck, until the short sleeve of his tee restrained her movements inside. Standing up on her knees now, and using the hand resting on his shoulder, she pulled herself around to where she was straddling his backside. Maintaining her left arm cocooned in his sleeve she brought it down across his firm nipple to rest above his heart.
"Sara…" his deep voice heeded a warning.
A warning she ignored.
Her
tongue could feel his pulsating carotid, it was enticing: Life
rushing straight from his heart to her mouth, sustaining her.
When
her right hand snaked its way down the front of his shirt of its own
accord she had reached his breaking point.
"—Sara!"
Desperation,
not anger, fueled his hoarse growl. He nonetheless startled her and
she fell back on the bed when he suddenly rose.
Bringing
his shirt over his head ruthlessly he turned, straddled and pinned
her – and he was looking at her now; staring into her wide eyes.
Tense
hurried breaths were the breeze before the storm in an otherwise
deafening silence. His eyes were searching hers for any sense of
fear or rejection.
Nothing
but restrained impatience and smoldering passion reflected back at
him.
The bunched knot of her towel revealed the number '100' as he undid it and let it fall to the sheets below.
—Game over.
This
was real.
It
was his turn to stare at her the way she had studied his face
earlier; every dimple, every mound and valley, every line. As he
dipped down and captured her nipple with his mouth she squirmed.
"Jeeeeesus!" She could not do this now.
She
propped her thigh up to grind against him.
"No more, not now."
She
could hardly find her voice she was so flustered.
"Show
me this is real."
He
let go of her hands and rid himself of his slacks and boxers. They
landed were he had previously found her damp towel.
He
didn't notice.
Finally
he could let himself look her in the eyes.
On
his hands and knees, never breaking eye contact with her, he
descended over her.
She
could feel his moist flesh graze her stomach and brought her knees up
to where she could scoot up to meet him.
Their
breaths held for a long second, a final calm before the storm, the
moment too intense – ten years of desire and tension flashing like
lightening between them.
It
was too bright.
She tried so hard to keep her eyes open as she felt him move inside her for the first time, knowing how much it meant to him, but they clamped shut responding to the pleasurable pain.
He wanted to see her as he felt her for the first time, but his sympathetic nervous system took over and his eyes closed as he fought his urge to give in to his flesh. He stilled and slowly opened his eyes.
Their mutually astounded expressions widened in admiration of each other when they started moving together, finding that rhythm that had somehow managed to uphold their friendship all those years. When she wound her long legs around his waist to lift herself closer he responded in kind by surrounding her wrists with his hands, pinning her down again as their movements were getting more frantic.
"Gah…mmm,
I can't—"
She
was staring at him with a desperate glassy look.
He kissed her when her heavy lids closed as she tensed, losing herself to the rewards of her own body, to the rewards of him.
Not even able to utter a sound as she grasped him he felt himself go with her, her struggling hands a focal point as he completely gave in to himself, to her, to this moment and all the pain and pleasure it symbolized.
Grissom collapsed half on the mattress, half on top of Sara. He expended a last effort rolling her over with him, letting her rest up against his side with her head on his chest, before taking some time to simply breathe.
Though left unspoken, they both knew this was probably the very first time either one of them had ever really allowed themselves to just breathe together – taking in the post-storm languid air.
III
"You're breathtaking, in absolutely every imaginable way!"
Grissom
was talking to the ceiling, but it seemed right nonetheless. It
didn't matter.
Smiling, he turned to face her.
Sara
looked as sated as he felt and judging by the goofy grin she was
wearing, which coincidentally made her even lovelier, it had been
good for her too.
Still
encircling her right wrist he
brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the palm gently before
holding it out in front of them both, studying it carefully.
"Do you remember the day we first met?"
"Mmmm…"
"I was looking at your hand, studying your palm and tracing your lifeline wondering if it would ever include me."
"Yeah?"
That
earned him a quick peck on the lips.
"What do you see looking at it now?"
He
traced the meandering line with his tongue before placing her hand
down over his heart.
"I
see the same perfect line I saw back then, only without it being
blurred by my jealousy."
Huh? She sat up slightly to look at down at him.
"What do you mean? We had just met, how could you possibly be jealous of anybody?"
"Well…"
He looked down, egging her on.
"Well what!"
"You had Hirsute walking all over you, nibbling your lifeline and checking you out."
Narrowing her eyes she gave him a quick once-over as if to verify his sanity, or lack thereof.
"Hirsute?"
Her
eyebrows mile-high at this point he smirked at her before
passionately kissing her adorably pouty lips.
"My tarantula."
"Oh…"
Realization
suddenly set in and she practically leapt up to her knees.
"—shit! Oh shit, the spider! – How's my butt?"
"Lovely
- looks utterly kissable!"
If
looks could kill…he knew he'd be on a slab.
"Okay…come here. I'll check for marks just to rule it out if it will make you feel better."
The
pout was back and he couldn't help himself. As he leaned in for a
closer look he nipped her a good one, a love bite.
Just
barely enough to leave it red for a while.
"—OW!"
She
tucked and turned before he could even blink and had him pinned and
straddled.
He
looked truly stunned, her agility…frightening.
She just looked at him for a while, before a yawn made them both laugh a little, completely exhausted by the combined events of the last 48 hours.
"Ugh…"
Having
already fallen asleep with the lights on once this morning she got up
and hit the switch before stopping by the bathroom to clean up a bit,
bringing him some tissues and crawling under the covers with him.
He
played with her hair for a few minutes before breaking the silence.
"Thank
you Sara."
His
kiss was so full of gratitude and emotion that it took her aback. It
would have to get its very own canvas as well; she should probably
just get an album.
"Thank
you."
Curling
up against him she thought about her lifeline and his place in it, on
it, and couldn't help but smile.
Looks
like her lifeline is going to be just fine.
"So, Hirsute huh?"
FIN