"Sara!" Grissom called to her as she passed by his office, several evidence bags in hand. She was donning a pair of standard issue cover alls and had grease smears all over her face. She stopped abruptly when he called and backtracked to his open door.
"Yeah?" She asked, glancing down at herself, amused at how strange she must have looked. "What's up?" She looked expectant, her hair sticking out from several different random places, a large piece hanging down into her eyes.
He looked at her oddly, backtracking in his mind for a moment, holding off on what he had wanted to discuss with her. "Catherine's notes didn't mention any requisitioned vehicle."
"Oh!" She said, smiling. "Nicky wanted a bit of help, he's not good with uh, heavy machinery, or so he says." She held up the evidence bags so he could see what she was carrying and then let them fall to her sides. "That it?" Sara was disappointed that he had only called her to discuss evidence.
"Uh, no. We should discuss..."
"Yeah..." She trailed off as well, biting her bottom lip, hoping to god that he wasn't going to retract what he had said to her in bed earlier.
"My place? After shift?" Grissom asked, allowing his eyes to flit from hers for an instant, still nervous. He was angry with himself for being so at odds with his own emotions; with his own brain. Grissom was upset with himself for being so insecure.
"Sure." She piped up, disappearing from his doorway, once again, leaving him in solitude. Gil Grissom was beginning to think that all this solitude was just too much.
Sara's head appeared back in his doorway seconds later. "But you do know shift ended ten minutes ago." She winked and disappeared once more. He smiled, feeling as if another temporary weight was lifted off of his shoulders.
Moments later, Grissom had gathered his things, checked the cases to make sure everything was going to plan. He said good morning to Veronica, the receptionist, on his way out of the lab, and made his way to his Denali with a small spring in his step.
"Someone's in a good mood." He heard someone call out behind him. He smiled and stopped for a second. He spun around, briefcase in hand. Sara stood behind him, hands on her hips, grinning.
"Well, I had an excellent evening the other night."
"Oh, did you now?" She played along, voice coy.
"Yes, with a wonderful woman."
"Is that so?" Sara asked, tilting her head and laughing, moving a few steps closer to him. She stopped advancing when she was a yard away from him, close enough to really see what was in his eyes. "Listen to you, waxing all poetic. Have you gone soft, Gil Grissom?" She asked, moving around as if to examine him for evidence.
He chuckled. "If it's anyone's fault, it's hers." He put up his unoccupied hand to fend off her eyes.
"Blame it on the woman." She said, mock indignantly, nodding at him. They stood in silence for a moment, just studying each other. The cool breeze of the early morning unsettled her hair, causing it to rise in a flurry around her softly smiling face.
Grissom sighed, willing his body to stay put, to hold off from taking her into his arms. "I need to kiss you." He said bluntly, catching her severely off guard. She stared at him, mouth agape, willing her mind to catch up. The smile disappeared completely, totally replaced by shock.
"I'm sorry." He began, but was abruptly cut off.
"Don't be sorry. It's just... still, hearing you say that catches me off guard. In a fabulous way!" She stated, easing him a bit. "I want you to kiss me. But not here. And not until we talk."
He smiled at her. She was all business now, and he was sure it had something to do with the insecurity she was feeling about the eventual future about the two of them together. "Dare I say, that you, Sara Sidle, are a tease?"
"We'll see." She said, ducking her head, walking to her car. "Give me a half an hour!" She called to him, one leg in her Denali, the rest of her body hanging out.
He didn't give her a response, but stood there, outside of his own vehicle and watched as she drove away. He could feel the butterflies jump to his stomach, flitting around in a flurry, and he smiled. Anticipation made him feel so alive.
On the way back to his townhouse, he pondered. For one, he wondered if he should have some sort of elaborate set up for her upon her arrival. He dismissed the thought; it wouldn't impress her. Sara would surely be more interested in the natural state of things, of his conditions as he had left them. He felt at ease knowing that he hadn't had to glorify himself in order for her to soften and share her heart with him.
He wondered... he wondered if any man had taken the time to truly wine and dine her. To make sure that she felt appreciated and special. Had taken the time to find the few spots on her body that made her moan. Had enough thought to make an extra cup of coffee for her in the morning as he had done...
He wondered, had anyone ever truly loved Sara Sidle? Unconditionally as he did? Had anyone ever seen into her heart with care and discretion, making sure to nurture rather than scrutinize? Had Sara ever had that luxury?
He thought about raw emotion, pondering whether Sara had ever truly let go, if the past day had been hindered by her insecurities.
But he was getting ahead of himself. He was jumping to too many conclusions.
Grissom pulled into his designated parking spot, pulled the briefcase from the passenger seat and opened the door. He locked the car and made his way to the front door, unlocking it, entering his house. He paused for a moment once inside and surveyed the darkened surroundings.
He tossed his briefcase in the vicinity of the coffee table, it landing with a dull thunk on the floor due to his miscalculation. He didn't bother to pick it up, opting instead, to walk to his bedroom in the dark and rid himself of his work shirt, replacing it with a light green t-shirt. He smoothed the shirt over his frame and walked into the bathroom to check his appearance and padded to the kitchen after kicking off his shoes.
He reached into the fridge for a water but held back, he'd wait until Sara arrived. Perhaps offer her some wine? Or would wine seem too cliché, too planned? Hell, he wanted a glass of wine, it would relax him.
He turned and opened a cabinet, staring down at the vintage selection in front of him. Grissom supposed it didn't matter which bottle he chose, they had all sat there for so long, no occasion to drink them. He blindly reached in and pulled one out. 93 Amarone. He set it down on the counter, to sit in wait for Sara.
Grissom wandered about his house as if it were foreign territory to him. He padded through the halls, not really seeing anything, not really sensing anything at all. His body was poised and ready; he was waiting.
Exactly seven minutes and thirty-two seconds later there was soft rap at the door. Grissom paused outside the door, one hand on the thin wood, one hand on the doorknob, he took a deep breath, and slowly pulled the door open.
"Hey!" She said brightly, more full of vigor than he had expected her to be. Yes, he had expected her to be something; cautious perhaps. Maybe shy. He hadn't anticipated an enthusiastic Sara Sidle welcoming herself into his house. He stood by the door for a moment as she moved into his living room and stood.
"It looks different in the dark." She said matter of factly, not really to him, nor to herself, perhaps saying it to the walls of his home. She turned back, hair flaying over her shoulder as she grinned at him, and he smiled shyly back, once again feeling like he had in his adolescence.
She turned back around, facing away from him, and set about investigating her surroundings, finally getting the chance to examine the specimens on the walls, the books on the shelves, the colors, the sounds. She sighed as she let her fingers trail over titles, just as he had done to her literary collection. She grinned when she fell upon a particular butterfly that enlivened her senses.
She walked from place to place slowly, not asking him to join her, nor denying him. But he stayed back, leaning against the partition between the hallway and the living area... watching her. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, his legs crossed, his face relaxed and intrigued.
He smiled as her fingers trailed over the glass casing of one of his specimens.
He walked toward her slowly, cautiously, allowing her to know that he was approaching. He stood behind her as she examined a Death's Head Moth, tilting her head from side to side, as if to dissect it's secret. She smiled after a bit and turned her head a fraction of an inch toward him. "This is my favorite I think." Sara said quietly, tilting her head in the direction of the white and gray specimen.
"Looks frightening, but it really isn't, is it?" She asked him for confirmation, not really know much about moths or butterflies. He nodded, looking from her to the bug and back to her.
"I know we haven't talked but-"
"Kiss me Griss." She ordered, grinning so wide that she was sure her cheeks would be sore in the morning. His lips descended on her with a ferocity that she had yet to experience from him. It took her a moment to balance herself against the wall with her hands, but then he assaulted her neck and she was lost.
"We-uh, oh shit, we have to talk Griss." She giggled as the rough hair of his beard scratched its way down her collarbone.
"Yes. Yes. Yes." He punctuated each word with a kiss. He stood back up, in front of her and nearly wavered. He felt so incredibly dizzy. Perhaps, he thought, he was letting go too fast.
Then he realized he didn't care, dismissed her argument and kissed her again, softer this time. His teeth took her bottom lips between them and nibbled gently, smoothing them over with his tongue so slowly that she was sure he wasn't moving at all. Sara's hands, though weak from lack of oxygen, reached up to push at Grissom's shoulders as her mouth formed a small smile.
"We, we, have to talk." She choked out, not wanting to stop. Her hands which were pushing against him wished to pull him tightly to her, rid him of his shirt and-
"We can talk with our bodies." He said, releasing his lips from her skin and waggling his eyebrows lewdly at her.
Sara shoved him forcefully, and began laughing loudly. She nearly doubled over, and began sucking in hasty breaths, short bursts of laughter cutting off her supply of air. "That's just about the worst line I've ever heard."
Grissom smiled proudly and took a mock bow, pulling her closely to him. She hummed low in her throat and allowed her eyes to slip closed. Her nose was assaulted with his soft smell, and at the scent she dug her nose into his neck, her stomach turning violently at finally being allowed to be so close to him. She sighed again, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, actually savoring everything that assaulted her senses.
"So talk." He said to her ear, voice low and gravelly.
"Catherine knows." She said, not really caring, the admission seeming to come so much easier in his arms. He rocked her to and fro and before she knew it they were slowly dancing around his living room.
"Mm, I know. She spoke to me." He said, pulling back to look in her eyes and smile. He knew she would be startled by his nonchalance.
"And...?" Sara was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She stopped moving, but the smile was reluctant to disappear from her face. They stood there for a moment while he formulated his answer.
"And... she's Catherine." He shrugged, as if it answered everything.
"Huh... and the rest of the world?"
"The rest of the world will find out when they find out. I don't plan on making a grand declaration." Grissom said, Sara's smile faltering a tiny bit, but she regained it when she reasoned that it was only logical. Then, much to her surprise, Grissom leaned into her ear, licked the shell and whispered: "Yet."
Her smile fell to half-mast and she pulled back to look at him. "And all of a sudden we're in a relationship." She stated rather than asked, her voice holding shards of anger. She stared him down, waiting for his reaction.
"I don't know what a relationship is, Sara." He admitted, still moving her around the living room to the phantom music. He didn't bother explaining anymore because there wasn't much more to explain.
She smiled at his admission and was happy that he didn't attempt to rationalize or justify his answer. She understood just fine.
"But you wanna try this thing with me. And you're sure about it." She said, testing the waters once more, hoping that when she touched down that the water would finally be solid ice. In her head, Sara was lacing up her skates, ready to attempt some triple axels.
"More than try it... So many things Sara..." He whispered, apparently to the music that was playing in his head.
"So many things?" She asked, a bit too loud for the conversation.
He sighed and slowly his movement. He didn't stop though, just slowly down enough to gather his thoughts about him.
"Sara, I've never been in this deep, this far, with anyone. That is to say... how can I... Ah, I was engaged once, a long time ago." This statement, for some reason didn't shock Sara, so she kept her head to his chest and listened. "I'm sure I thought she was wonderful at the time... but then, as with most fledgling relationships, she found something in me that she didn't take well to, and the foundation crumbled underneath us. I was so infatuated with her but... it's just... I've never felt this nervous, this excited, this scared and this... this... much, about anything-anyone, and it's wonderful and scary and profound that at forty-eight I can... it's profound. You're profound." He ended on a whisper.
"It's amazing that another man, a man smarter than me, a man-"
He was cut off abruptly by her warm lips. They landed upon his bottom lip and suckled and he groaned, moving his right hand from her upper back to her ass.
"Wherever you were going with that... there isn't anyone smarter than you." She winked at him, and kissed him fully, taking his tongue deeply into her mouth, breathing in deeply as she did so, she cool air irritating her. She squirmed in his embrace as she fitted her arms around him more securely and they resumed their kiss.
Upon breaking apart, his hand helped her to rest her head gently upon his shoulder. "Sara, can I... may I speak freely for a moment?"
She looked up at him quizzically, with a bit of humor. As if he had to ask. She smiles and sighed out a laugh, replacing her head on his shoulder.
"And don't laugh..." Grissom thought for a moment, wondered if he should divulge what he was thinking. "I just thought it would be easier to, quantify love. To know when it was real, staring you in the face. Well, I never really believed in it, since it's just a series of chemicals setting off rapid signals in the brain... but I couldn't connect that to the butterflies in my stomach, for lack of a better explanation... and I didn't seem to know why my body responded to you the way it did... not to mention the fact that you kept me up so many nights, my mind wondering what your skin would feel like against mine... and rationalizing with science just-"
"You're worse than I am, Griss!" Sara said quietly, jarring him from his ranting. She knew what he was trying to say, there was no need to go any further. He scratched his hand across his beard, nodded and shut up.
"Never felt this way about anyone before is what you're trying to say." She said lightly, taking the lead for a moment smoothing her hands up his back.
"For lack of more poetic words, yes. Though I can't seem to string together a coherent sentence with you in my arms so..."
"Me either." She said, whispered, and stopped moving. He stopped as well, hearing her admission.
"But you have so much to do Sara, so many people to meet, and-"
"So do you. Age is just a number Gil." She said loudly, spreading her arms in admonishment. Then she shook her head, hair falling into her face. "Let's live like we're seventeen Griss. Let's live like there's nothing stopping us; no supervisors, no occupations, just no limits. Can't you live for once like you... mean it?"
She paused for a moment and looked at him. "I need you to slap me right now. My brain is officially complete mush, I've resorted to melodrama." She huffed a laugh, avoiding meeting his eyes. She'd also used his first name and felt slightly strange about it. She figured she'd just have to get used to it.
He looked to the ceiling quickly, and then back down at Sara, still standing in the ring of his arms. "Well, who's to say I don't have the sex drive of a seventeen year old?"
"Prove it." She challenged with a tip of her chin and steely eyes.