Disclaimers: I do not own any of the characters in CSI or the rights to the show itself. However, I would like to thank CBS for letting me take the characters out to play.
I would also like to thank my beta: mbbowman/swismiself. She has put her time and effort into editing this and I greatly appreciate it. I know that she has other things to do with her time than devote it to my whimsy, so you are a star in my eyes.
I guess I should let you in on the fact that this is pre-season 6, and although it is GSR it is not pre-existing.
This is another short chapter... but I am plugging away at it promise. And THANKS again to my reviewers. It is always the same few who take the time to write. I love you allllllll...
Chapter 9 – Reckoning
Though Miami wasn't generally a quiet place, the spot they'd chosen on the beach was fairly secluded and virtually abandoned except for the occasional squawk of a ruffled seagull, or the rare pair of lovers strolling by. Above them and a short distance to the left they could hear soft dinner music wafting from the belly of the crowded restaurant.
It was all very romantic, and alternately depressing, Sara decided.
Being on a beach was normally inspiring, since the water had always called to her on an elemental level. But sitting there with Grissom had, so far, been less than exciting, since aside from the odd comment about the food and offer of wine, he'd really not said much. She was grateful that he had at least thought to request wine. It was most certainly taking the edge off of an uncomfortable situation.
In fact by the time she had downed the last of her fish, and the second glass of wine, she was feeling more than a little courageous.
He'd been staring at her whenever he though she was looking away, so she waited and faked him out, the minute he turned she swiveled her head towards him and let out an exasperated, "WHAT?"
His eyes grew wide for a moment, before he smirked and speared a green been from the Styrofoam tray in his lap.
When she thought he wasn't going to answer her, she continued to eye him, and asked again, this time a little less hostile… "No seriously, what? Do I have fish stuck between my teeth? Or green beans? Or what?"
Grissom grinned again and then licked his lips. That is when Sara knew she was in trouble. Licking of the lips, running of the hand over the mouth, and removing the eyeglasses all had similar meanings in Grissom speak… They essentially meant that he was mulling something over and it was something that he was unsure of. If he was unsure of it, then it had to be personal, and personal was bad in Sara's books. Her mind warned her that maybe she should back pedal and talk about the weather. Her heart didn't listen and instead simply fluttered when he actually started to speak.
"I was just trying to shake the image of you clad in leather and wearing a dog collar actually…"
There it was…
Definitely should have known better than to ask, the slim brunette chided herself, as she choked heavily on a bean that had wedged itself in her throat. It took her a moment of coughing madly, one or two concerned taps on her back from her dinner companion, and in the end a large gulp of her third glass of wine before she'd gathered her composure and was able to speak. Mind you, what came out wasn't the most eloquent string of words she'd ever uttered… In fact she only managed one, and it was beginning to sound a little redundant even to her ears. "What?"
Grissom imagining her in a leather bustier and collar was, to say the least, disconcerting.
No… she corrected herself.
It was scary.
Scary in a good way, her heart put in.
No, scary in a bad and dangerous way, her brain reiterated. You've grown, remember?
"Did it have spikes?" Grissom continued.
Sara's mouth dropped, and all she could do was gape at him. It took her a moment before she noticed his shit-eating grin.
He was teasing her.
Well turnabout is fair play… she reminded herself before reaching out her hand.
Now it was Grissom's turn, "What?"
"Your garbage," she motioned to the container on his lap. "I'm taking mine," she indicated a nearby garbage can that was lodged, slightly off kilter, in the sand.
He passed her the refuse, a glimmer in his eyes. "Or was it diamond studded?" he mused.
She'd wandered two steps before she stopped and turned. "Though leather is a necessary part of the wardrobe, I was more heavily into lace…black – the spandex kind and I never wore a collar… My partner did. I got to play with the whip…" She winked and finished her trip to the trash bin. Shaking slightly at her bravado and trying desperately to swallow back the embarrassment her revelation had caused her, she grinned. Behind her she could hear her boss, friend and mentor sputter slightly. He so had it coming.
Replacing the grin with a nervous smile, she turned and made her way back, her feet reveling in the coolness of the soft sand beneath her bare toes. "I miss the ocean…" She looked at the man sitting on the ridge of grass, his own feet buried in the sand.
"I do too, sometimes." He dug his toes into the pale crystals. "I mean, I grew up in Marina Del Ray, water was everywhere. I spent a lot of time on the beach as a kid. It was peaceful."
Sara nodded knowingly. "It has a way of making you feel so small."
"I like the majesty of it. It forever reminds me that we are all part of a never ending cycle."
She grinned. "Ever the scientist, Dr. Grissom."
He laughed, and the looked at her a moment, studying her delicate features. "Lace, huh?"
Sara rolled her eyes. "Yes…"
"Mmmm."
The noise sounded almost hungry to Sara's ears and, for the gazillionth time since she'd met him, she wondered about the curious puzzle that was Gilbert Grissom. Sometimes, he could be so normal; a typical man who had the same motivation as any other man. Sex – she'd caught him numerous times staring at hers and Catherine's butt. Drink – she knew he kept a bottle of something hard in the bottom drawer of his desk, and had a penchant for screwdrivers – a fact that Catherine had let slip. And then there sensation of the cheap thrill – his rollercoaster obsession; it was a well know predilection around the lab. He'd even told her about it once, though the only kind of rollercoaster ride he'd ever taken her on was one of an emotional nature – not unlike other men. This was the Grissom she could understand. But most of the time he just confounded her with his self denial, fear of relationships, and the fact that he seemed to be emotionally very young. Then to make it all more confusing, the emotionally ambivalent little boy would say something to her about dog collars and leather… a statement that smacked of sexuality, lewd thoughts, and intimacy.
Sara's head hurt. "You know." She turned and tried to catch his eye. "I wasn't really into it." She waited to see his reaction, and was faced with the exact countenance she'd expected… a stoic Grissom. "It is just that the offer was there, and it kind of intrigued me on a baser level. And frankly, once I get a taste of something like that I devour it on an intellectual and academic level."
The bearded entomologist nodded in understanding, and then picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the frothing surf. "Been there," he admitted, and gently smiled at her. "I'm not judging you, Sara, because honestly you and I are more alike that either of us cares to admit." Another rock flew. "I was just mulling it over."
She now she had no idea what any of that was meant to say to her. "Mulling?"
"Yes," he looked at her almost shyly. "A period of deep thought…" he said by way of definition.
"I know what it means. I was just hoping we could…you know…forget it now." She stared at him hopefully, the cool wind rolling in from the water making her hair fly about, and causing a slight shiver to track its way through her.
"Mmmmm." He shook his head almost mournfully and stood up. ""Not possible… Ms. Sidle…" His warm hand reached out and grasped hers. With one quick tug he had her on her feet and was headed back towards the restaurant. Midway he leaned in and whispered softly in her ear. "It's a picture that is not likely to leave my brain anytime in the near future…"
The press of his words on the sensitive skin of her neck, combined with meaning laced into them, ignited a fire in her belly. She actually wanted to jump him, pin him to the ground and have her way with him. She turned away from the comment and tried to focus on the soft lights spilling out of the restaurant.
God dammit! He has done this to you before…You are not going to take anything he says seriously, her head warned her.
Shut up already, her heart acknowledged. I can handle it.
There was one small fact that she knew she was forgetting, and it popped back into her head the minute they wandered back into the crowded hotel amidst a light banter.
Shit… Both her heart and head shouted.
Sexual tension was a definite drawback when you actually had to share a bed with the man who was the cause of it.
Maybe they could get a roll away…
TBC
