Nods to Anni...
"This is quite
possibly... the most uncomfortable thing I have ever worn," Nick
pulled at his bowtie in frustration until Catherine batted his hands
away. Rolling his eyes, he sank back into his seat, still
uncomfortable.
"Stop it," she hissed, sliding a finger beneath a curl to place it behind her ear. "You look fantastic and charming, deal with it."
Sinking back into her own chair, she glanced across the table at Sara, who smiled a bit and lifted her wine glass to her lips. A languid sip and Catherine smiled back, bringing her own glass up to taste. Both women felt relaxed while, for some reason, the men were the ones complaining about the evening.
Out on the dance floor in the muted light, couples and non-couples moved to the music. Some were friends simply enjoying themselves, others using the evening for political gain; some arrived at the function together and were dancing together, these were the people that would leave together.
No one on the nightshift had arrived 'plus-one' and they were all grateful for it; it made making fun of the others much simpler. There was easy conversation floating around the table, everyone contributing, more than a few laughing. True, it was a function for the city and they were all put out for having to attend but they had found themselves having a fairly good time.
Which was odd to begin with.
Greg was ragged upon for a bit about his hair, still spiky and out of control. Taking offense, he'd pushed his chair back and made to leave, to which Warrick started and grabbed his arm, sitting him immediately back down. There was an odd sense of camaraderie amongst the group, the table of eight rounded out by a slightly despondent Brass and Ecklie.
Initially, the night shift employees had been upset, uncomfortable, quiet and reclusive when their superior had tossed his seating card at Catherine and slumped down, but after a few drinks... well... the words had come much more easily.
Merlot, Cabernet, some Chardonnay thrown in and a beer or two and everyone was everyone else's friend.
Not really but... sort of.
There were jokes, risqué ones that Greg told.
Nick laughed first, which caused Sara to giggle and Warrick to slap her knee and guffaw loudly. Politics featured largely in their discussion and after a well-timed barb about Bush, Ecklie laughed and moved off to speak with the mayor.
The conversation tapered and people began filtering from the table, one at a time.
Catherine coyly-so coyly she was nearly dripping with deliberate sex-asked Warrick to dance with her and he took her hand without a word, the two abandoning the table without a backwards glance. Grissom watched them for a time; watched her whisper to him, watched him laugh and respond.
Dancing and then… dancing.
Maybe they were friends too close, perhaps they were something more. He made no real move to distinguish because the subdued, secret smiles on their faces had him intrigued.
Greg eventually made his way off, a glass of champagne (where had that entered? Had he truly missed the champagne?) in hand. Nick sought out the distant form of Wendy and Brass grumbled something about Ecklie and made his way towards the ass-kisser and the mayor.
Alone at the table, they pretended not to realize the other.
It didn't work.
Sara was one and a half in; Grissom was on his second glass of red and felt pleasantly warm. He felt as though he should look at her-really look-and so he did.
She was adorned in a pink thing, long and silky, with strings crisscrossing at her back. Her shoulders held the thin straps that secured the dress to her body, creating a slight crease where it lay. Beneath the twinkle lights and the small candles from the table, her skin resembled warm caramel, her freckles peeking out of the concoction as chocolate.
Delicious; she looked absolutely ravishing.
And he, toying with the edges of the pristine tablecloth, felt himself shiver awake.
Sara was long lines and deliberate actions, curves held by dainty skin, beauty veiled by brilliance and brains. Slim, slim oh so slim-delicate fingers wrapped around her glass again but didn't bring it to her mouth to drink. Pulling it back and forth across the tightly woven cotton, she continued a shaky mesmerism she had begun the minute she raised her hand and asked a question all those years ago.
Her eyes-fixed like a sleepwalker's might be were fixed on him. The simple fact that she wasn't turning away, blushing, shying from his own heavy stare, spoke volumes. "Surprised you didn't feign illness," she said, quirking a brow instead of her lips, her glass continued to be pulled slowly back and forth across the tablecloth.
Grissom's lips curved upward as he responded, "I don't think I have any fight left in me when it comes to these things. If I come to this one, I can skip out on the next one." Sara nodded, pursing her lips in acknowledgement as her fingers finally stilled. "It's a simple progression I'm only picking up on now, sadly."
A nod and she leaned back in her seat, elbows sliding along the smooth mahogany armrests. "Well, these things aren't so, so bad, really." Gesturing at the table with a lazy hand, she continued on, her voice taking on a quieter tone. "Good food, better wine, and you don't really have to speak with anyone if you don't want to, you just... show up."
Slightly more intrigued with her posture and voice than anything else, Grissom sat forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I suppose; how many of these have you attended?"
"Three? Four? Just whenever Brass needs a date and Catherine isn't available really," Sara sighed and went to toy with her napkin before correcting herself. "Not to say that he can't find someone outside of... the lab... just that I'm sure it's better... politically."
Grissom squirmed a tad uncomfortably in his seat, glancing at his fingernails before looking back across the table.
"You play politics?"
A simple rope-tug at the corners of her mouth had her grinning again, the subtle shift revealing to him more than her words did, "I play when I need to and it got Ecklie off my back for awhile." Logically, an intensely logical, measured, reasoned response.
He finally got some of it, and felt certain pieces shift into place. It was easier to just give in, sometimes.
His mouth sucked itself in, lips pursing as he wondered if he should actually put voice to his thoughts. Surrendering, "I suppose if you've become so very politic," he gave a quirk of his brow and she volleyed one of her own, "That a dance with your superior would look very, very bad indeed."
Blank face, white porcelain or something very much like it, she attempted to rein in the slack that attempted to invade her jaw. She set it hard, staring him down, waiting for him to blush, look away, take it back.
He too stared, the lights reflecting very minutely in his eyes; fire.
A little swipe of her tongue and a quirk of a cheek, a tiny tilt of her head and she was regarding him very carefully. "Not that bad."
His fingers fell slack on the tablecloth and he slid his hands up and onto the hard surface, leaning in low to gaze at her, "Want to give it a go?"
As far as moves went, it was a brash, bold thing from him. There was nothing to do but accept with a sweaty, open palm. Walking the few steps to the dance floor, she found herself inside her head, hoping to god that she didn't trip, fumble, step on his toes.
It had been eons since she had actually danced with someone and this, this was a decisive moment, possibly the only dance she would remember for the rest of her life. "Do you know how to dance?" she whispered in jest as he moved around so that Sara was standing before him.
Grissom blinked, smiled a shadow of a smile and leaned in to place a hand on her lower back. "Okay..." was her breathy response as one of her hands came to rest on his shoulder, the other wrapped tightly in his.
Something was playing, but neither took the time or the effort to place it. Maybe jazz, maybe not, maybe they were just moving, moving to their own rhythm. "Of course I know how to dance," close enough to be heard, far enough away to remain in neutral territory.
"Of course you do," she whispered to herself, chastising in tone. Of course he could dance. He could do everything else why not dance? Sara wondered for a moment if he could feel the perspiration on her skin, feel it sliding to the surface in response to his proximity.
She wondered how he would react to it.
But Grissom didn't react, simply moved her around the dance floor, nodding his head at some people, delivering a quiet hello to others. That was something that threw her a little, had her laughing quietly to herself; he wasn't trying to hide her, hide the fact that he was holding her close, closer than Warrick was holding Catherine.
Surely, that counted for something, but Sara resigned herself to keeping it simple and not over-thinking. The feelings at play, the emotions at work were far easier enjoyed and understood when words were absent from the mix. Under her fingers, his short ones felt rough, her hand in his felt warm, too warm and lingered somewhere around the vicinity of perfect.
Maybe there was some magic in the moment, something in the air or they had both drank too much (they hadn't drank too much) but when she leaned in closer to him and he brought his lips up to her ear he dared to whisper, "I can't say that there has been another moment in my life in which I've been absolutely certain I want to throw caution to the wind... and..."
Pulling back, severing something in the connection as she did, Sara asked, "And?"
"And all I can think of is how badly I want to kiss you." The hush enveloped his words, made them only audible for her but her gasp, free and unbidden, turned some heads. Grissom ran damage control, "I am such a klutz!" The onlookers turned away, leaving them to filter through the bombshell he had just dropped.
"Very, very bad for my newfound respect for playing things politically..." she drew out and felt the arm that was around her shift so that his fingers could tease over the fabric just above her ass.
"Then," he mumbled, leaning in so that she could almost taste the smile that was dripping from his lips, "This party most certainly needs to be relocated."
One nod of her head and they were meandering off the dance floor, through the doors, down the hall and out the front door. From there it was a quick jaunt around the building to the darkened side lot. Having held her hand the entire way he was able to spin her into his arms very easily.
With one hand trailing over her cheek, the other cradling her hip he smiled gently, easily and pressed the side of his face to hers, sighing. "Saraaaa..."
"Yes."
And his lips were on hers, kissing her for the first time, dry heat invading her cheeks, her face enflaming immediately as she responded. Her hand was fumbling through his hair and he was clutching at her hip and then they were against the wall, necking.
It was sweet, the way he held her firmly and yet softly, kissed her neck, sighed how wonderful she looked, how very much he wanted her, had always wanted her, always, always, always...
Sara laughed and pulled away, stilled his hands and lips and held his wrists at his side. "Then stop wanting." There was a brilliant smile when she told him, "Take."
Grissom shifted, worried his lips, looked back at the building from which they had come. "Did you check-"
"Yeah, I checked my coat," she asserted, "Two-oh-seven."
"Two-oh-seven, okay, what color?"
"Black."
Grissom nodded and stepped away quickly, stepped back and kissed her quickly on the lips. "Black coat, I'll be right back." About to run off again, Grissom stopped, fumbled in his pocket and tossed her his keys. "I'm back there," gesturing frantically with his hands, he back pedaled. "Somewhere, start the car, I'll be right down."
Sara watched him disappear and smiled a little to herself. Spinning the keys around her pointer finger, she spun around and made her way towards his vehicle.
She knew the dress would do the trick.
Anyone get me yet? Perhaps the next chapter will make my motives clearer.
