TITLE: Off-Beat
AUTHOR: coolbyrne
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: GSR
SPOILERS: "Bully for You"
DISTRIBUTION: Archive it if you like.
DISCLAIMER: Oh, if ONLY I owned these characters. Alas, I do not.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Despite Beth Gibbons heart-breaking voice playing in the
background as I wrote this, it is indeed angst-free!
If only you had told her the words to enfold her Long ago -Beth Gibbons, "Drake"
(Go ahead. TRY and write a non-angsty fic after that!)
FEEDBACK: Constructive criticism/generous compliments are greatly appreciated. Flames will be mocked in other forums. Feel free to send any combination of these options to: SUMMARY: Catherine sets up Sara with "Mr. Perfect".
*
'Stupid, stupid, stupid,' Sara chastised herself as she watched people exit and enter the lively restaurant whose parking lot she was now sitting in.
Catherine had offered to drive her, but Sara had quickly vetoed the idea.
"But if I drop you off, he's guaranteed to give you a ride home," Catherine said, impressed with her stroke of genius.
Less impressed, Sara retorted, "Yeah, and then I have no means of escape."
Catherine put her arm around the younger woman's shoulder. "Believe me, honey, when you see the guy I've set you up with, the only escape you'll be worrying about is who gets the keys to the handcuffs."
Sara groaned.
It was now six hours later, but it seemed like a lifetime ago that she had agreed to this disaster-in-waiting. The plan was for her to meet Catherine here, at The Off-Beat, until her date showed up. Her date. Sara's date. A blind date. Set up by Catherine.
"What was I thinking??" she asked out loud.
'Well,' she thought, 'at least by driving my car here, I can sit in it and look like an idiot instead of standing outside the restaurant looking like a bigger idiot.'
Nervously rubbing her palms against the jeans of her thighs for the thousandth time that night, she bit her lip and commanded, 'Get a grip. What's the worst that could happen?'
She brought up her hand and covered her eyes. 'What was I thinking?'
*
Shifting from foot to foot, Sara used her tall frame to her advantage as she scanned the crowd for Catherine. A flash of familiar blonde drew her attention to the corner and she weaved her way towards the table.
"Sara!" Catherine called out. When the lean brunette reached the table, she added, "You made it."
Sara dropped in the booth and asked, "What? You didn't think I'd show?"
Shrugging, Catherine admitted, "It had crossed my mind."
"I crossed my mind, too," Sara confessed. "Unfortunately, it didn't cross my mind until you spotted me."
The waiter materialized at their table. "Can I start you off with something?"
Sara looked up. "I'll have an iced tea, please."
Catherine tapped the rim of her glass and told the waiter, "I'll have another." When he left, she turned to Sara. "You could have ordered something a little more daring, you know. It's your night off."
"I'd like to keep my senses together tonight, thanks."
She let Catherine laugh at this and took the time to look around and absorb her surroundings. Pictures of Lena Horne and Smokey Robinson and Janis Joplin adorned the walls of blue and gray. The lights around the booths were warm and golden while the bar was bathed like the red light district.
Catherine saw the trace of amusement in her colleague's eyes. "I guess this is why they call it 'The Off-Beat'."
Content that she had soaked up all the pertinent information of the place, Sara looked across the table and replied, "I like it. Not what I expected, but I like it."
"Good, because I didn't pick it."
"Oh, really?"
"Yep," Catherine said. "Your date did."
Sara made a face. "Please don't call him my date." She ignored Catherine's smirk. "And when are you going to tell me his name?"
"I'm not," she answered. "I didn't tell him your name, either. I think that's all part of the newness of meeting someone. It's up to you two to get to know each other. When he shows up, my work here is done."
Sara's face blanched at the realization of what the night might hold. "We need to come up with some sort of secret signal."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, if I see him and I don't like him, we need some kind of signal so you don't leave me alone with him."
Catherine laughed at the look of sheer panic on Sara's face. "Sara, believe me. As soon as you see him you'll like him."
"How do you know? How do you know?"
The older woman could only shake her head. "I just do."
Unconvinced, yet without appropriate rebuttal, Sara asked, "Well, if you're not going to tell me his name- and I swear to God it better not be something like 'Eugene'- can you tell me anything about him? What's he like? How long have you known him? Where did you meet him?"
Taking a sip of the drink newly delivered by the waiter, Catherine looked over the rim of her glass and smirked, "Well, for starters, he's a bit older than you."
Sara's hand paused at her own glass. "How much older?"
"Don't worry." Noticing her words were having little effect placating Sara's anxiety, she added, "Really, Sara. Trust me."
"That's not helping at all, you know. Not at all."
Ignoring the jab, Catherine moved on. "I've known him for, God, for a long time. I met him at work."
Sara's brows nearly jumped off her forehead. "Past or present?"
Narrowing her eyes, she feigned annoyance. "Present, thank you very much. Do you really think I'd set you up with a guy I met stripping? Hell, if marrying Eddie taught me anything." She saw the younger woman relax ever so slightly. "Sara," she started, her soft tone getting Sara's attention immediately, "Sara. I know you have reservations about all this, but I wouldn't do anything to make things bad for you, you have to know that. You may not believe it right now, but when you meet this guy. He's perfect."
"I don't want Mr. Perfect," Sara said, giving a small smile. Gazing down at the water mark her glass had left, she dabbed at it with a napkin. "I just want.," her brow furrowed, "I just want someone who doesn't mind when I smell like death." She looked up at Catherine and laughed. "I don't know what I'm talking about."
"I have no idea what that means," Catherine confessed, "but I think I know what you're saying."
"I'm glad one of us does."
"No, really," she continued, "You want someone who connects with you for no other reason than you're you. No outside influences, no false expectations, no pretensions. You know, one of the reasons I admire you is because you can show up on a crime scene and just let it all come to you in its rawest form. The evidence is evidence and you don't try to bend it to fit a theory. I think you might approach relationships the same way." Before Sara could object, Catherine interjected, "There's nothing wrong with that, it's just who you are. You see things for what they are on their purest level. You just want someone in a relationship who sees you the same way. 'Simply Sara'."
Smiling, Sara looked down again, silent. When she finally spoke, the words she chose were, "I'm crazy to expect that, aren't I?"
"Well, normally I would say, 'Yes', that you're crazy to think you could get into a relationship without some kind of compromise, but," Catherine's eyes caught a familiar movement making its way to their table, "in this case, I don't think you're crazy at all."
Sara's eyes looked up at the change of tone in Catherine's voice. Noticing the smile on her friend's face, Sara turned to see what had attracted Catherine's attention.
Sara covered her face and laughed.
"Catherine," the visitor said. "And. Sara."
"Hey, Grissom," Catherine greeted. She stood up and physically moved Grissom into a sitting position in the booth. She bent over and whispered in his ear, "Tell her she smells nice. Trust me." Stepping back and admiring the scene in front of her, she brushed her hands together and proclaimed, "Well, my work here is done." Leaning down towards Sara who still had her face covered, she added, "Unless, of course, that look's some sort of secret signal you're trying to give me?"
Sara attempted a withering glare, but when she glanced at the man across the table, she couldn't prevent the smile from finding its way on to her face.
"No," she said, looking at Catherine, then back to Grissom. "This is perfect."
-end.
If only you had told her the words to enfold her Long ago -Beth Gibbons, "Drake"
(Go ahead. TRY and write a non-angsty fic after that!)
FEEDBACK: Constructive criticism/generous compliments are greatly appreciated. Flames will be mocked in other forums. Feel free to send any combination of these options to: SUMMARY: Catherine sets up Sara with "Mr. Perfect".
*
'Stupid, stupid, stupid,' Sara chastised herself as she watched people exit and enter the lively restaurant whose parking lot she was now sitting in.
Catherine had offered to drive her, but Sara had quickly vetoed the idea.
"But if I drop you off, he's guaranteed to give you a ride home," Catherine said, impressed with her stroke of genius.
Less impressed, Sara retorted, "Yeah, and then I have no means of escape."
Catherine put her arm around the younger woman's shoulder. "Believe me, honey, when you see the guy I've set you up with, the only escape you'll be worrying about is who gets the keys to the handcuffs."
Sara groaned.
It was now six hours later, but it seemed like a lifetime ago that she had agreed to this disaster-in-waiting. The plan was for her to meet Catherine here, at The Off-Beat, until her date showed up. Her date. Sara's date. A blind date. Set up by Catherine.
"What was I thinking??" she asked out loud.
'Well,' she thought, 'at least by driving my car here, I can sit in it and look like an idiot instead of standing outside the restaurant looking like a bigger idiot.'
Nervously rubbing her palms against the jeans of her thighs for the thousandth time that night, she bit her lip and commanded, 'Get a grip. What's the worst that could happen?'
She brought up her hand and covered her eyes. 'What was I thinking?'
*
Shifting from foot to foot, Sara used her tall frame to her advantage as she scanned the crowd for Catherine. A flash of familiar blonde drew her attention to the corner and she weaved her way towards the table.
"Sara!" Catherine called out. When the lean brunette reached the table, she added, "You made it."
Sara dropped in the booth and asked, "What? You didn't think I'd show?"
Shrugging, Catherine admitted, "It had crossed my mind."
"I crossed my mind, too," Sara confessed. "Unfortunately, it didn't cross my mind until you spotted me."
The waiter materialized at their table. "Can I start you off with something?"
Sara looked up. "I'll have an iced tea, please."
Catherine tapped the rim of her glass and told the waiter, "I'll have another." When he left, she turned to Sara. "You could have ordered something a little more daring, you know. It's your night off."
"I'd like to keep my senses together tonight, thanks."
She let Catherine laugh at this and took the time to look around and absorb her surroundings. Pictures of Lena Horne and Smokey Robinson and Janis Joplin adorned the walls of blue and gray. The lights around the booths were warm and golden while the bar was bathed like the red light district.
Catherine saw the trace of amusement in her colleague's eyes. "I guess this is why they call it 'The Off-Beat'."
Content that she had soaked up all the pertinent information of the place, Sara looked across the table and replied, "I like it. Not what I expected, but I like it."
"Good, because I didn't pick it."
"Oh, really?"
"Yep," Catherine said. "Your date did."
Sara made a face. "Please don't call him my date." She ignored Catherine's smirk. "And when are you going to tell me his name?"
"I'm not," she answered. "I didn't tell him your name, either. I think that's all part of the newness of meeting someone. It's up to you two to get to know each other. When he shows up, my work here is done."
Sara's face blanched at the realization of what the night might hold. "We need to come up with some sort of secret signal."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, if I see him and I don't like him, we need some kind of signal so you don't leave me alone with him."
Catherine laughed at the look of sheer panic on Sara's face. "Sara, believe me. As soon as you see him you'll like him."
"How do you know? How do you know?"
The older woman could only shake her head. "I just do."
Unconvinced, yet without appropriate rebuttal, Sara asked, "Well, if you're not going to tell me his name- and I swear to God it better not be something like 'Eugene'- can you tell me anything about him? What's he like? How long have you known him? Where did you meet him?"
Taking a sip of the drink newly delivered by the waiter, Catherine looked over the rim of her glass and smirked, "Well, for starters, he's a bit older than you."
Sara's hand paused at her own glass. "How much older?"
"Don't worry." Noticing her words were having little effect placating Sara's anxiety, she added, "Really, Sara. Trust me."
"That's not helping at all, you know. Not at all."
Ignoring the jab, Catherine moved on. "I've known him for, God, for a long time. I met him at work."
Sara's brows nearly jumped off her forehead. "Past or present?"
Narrowing her eyes, she feigned annoyance. "Present, thank you very much. Do you really think I'd set you up with a guy I met stripping? Hell, if marrying Eddie taught me anything." She saw the younger woman relax ever so slightly. "Sara," she started, her soft tone getting Sara's attention immediately, "Sara. I know you have reservations about all this, but I wouldn't do anything to make things bad for you, you have to know that. You may not believe it right now, but when you meet this guy. He's perfect."
"I don't want Mr. Perfect," Sara said, giving a small smile. Gazing down at the water mark her glass had left, she dabbed at it with a napkin. "I just want.," her brow furrowed, "I just want someone who doesn't mind when I smell like death." She looked up at Catherine and laughed. "I don't know what I'm talking about."
"I have no idea what that means," Catherine confessed, "but I think I know what you're saying."
"I'm glad one of us does."
"No, really," she continued, "You want someone who connects with you for no other reason than you're you. No outside influences, no false expectations, no pretensions. You know, one of the reasons I admire you is because you can show up on a crime scene and just let it all come to you in its rawest form. The evidence is evidence and you don't try to bend it to fit a theory. I think you might approach relationships the same way." Before Sara could object, Catherine interjected, "There's nothing wrong with that, it's just who you are. You see things for what they are on their purest level. You just want someone in a relationship who sees you the same way. 'Simply Sara'."
Smiling, Sara looked down again, silent. When she finally spoke, the words she chose were, "I'm crazy to expect that, aren't I?"
"Well, normally I would say, 'Yes', that you're crazy to think you could get into a relationship without some kind of compromise, but," Catherine's eyes caught a familiar movement making its way to their table, "in this case, I don't think you're crazy at all."
Sara's eyes looked up at the change of tone in Catherine's voice. Noticing the smile on her friend's face, Sara turned to see what had attracted Catherine's attention.
Sara covered her face and laughed.
"Catherine," the visitor said. "And. Sara."
"Hey, Grissom," Catherine greeted. She stood up and physically moved Grissom into a sitting position in the booth. She bent over and whispered in his ear, "Tell her she smells nice. Trust me." Stepping back and admiring the scene in front of her, she brushed her hands together and proclaimed, "Well, my work here is done." Leaning down towards Sara who still had her face covered, she added, "Unless, of course, that look's some sort of secret signal you're trying to give me?"
Sara attempted a withering glare, but when she glanced at the man across the table, she couldn't prevent the smile from finding its way on to her face.
"No," she said, looking at Catherine, then back to Grissom. "This is perfect."
-end.