If there's one thing I've learned in this job, it's that you don't say no to Gil Grissom unless you really mean it. You have to be prepared to stand behind your refusal, to face down that penetrating stare of his when he realises that you're trying to thwart him. It's not an easy thing to do, especially if you're on the already shaky ground of being the subordinate in the working relationship.
The man is like a steamroller; he makes an order sound like a polite request and turns away before you've had a chance to comply. He just assumes that you will fall in with whatever plans he has, and nine out of ten times, people do just that. I'm that one percent that likes to put him in his place. I'm that one percent who can get away with saying no to him and live to tell the tale. For some reason he accepts, even encourages disobedience in me. I think he likes the challenge of trying to bend me to his will. Sometimes I let him. Sometimes I have no choice. Sometimes I hold firm and watch him walk away defeat, a small smile tugging at his lips. And sometimes we shake on it, call it a draw and go out for pancakes. Whichever way plays out, it's always been fun.
Until now.
This latest request of his has got me twisted into so many knots that I can't even feel my toes. I know they're down there, but damned if I can feel them. And being the smug bastard that he is, he knows. Son of a bitch. This is going to be one of those times where I have no choice. The only way out of this nice little corner he's backed me into is a simple three letter word. Never mind that I had different plans. Never mind that I swore up and down that I'd never go down this road again. I'm going to have to say yes, because the alternative doesn't bear thinking about.
I suppose it won't be so bad. I do love him. And living the rest of my life without him in it is unfathomable. He knows this too. But at least he hasn't just assumed that I'll do it. I like that he's waiting for my reply. I like that although he knows what my answer will be, he still looks so nervous. Ya gotta love this man.
Will I marry him?
There really is no choice.
"Yes."
End
The man is like a steamroller; he makes an order sound like a polite request and turns away before you've had a chance to comply. He just assumes that you will fall in with whatever plans he has, and nine out of ten times, people do just that. I'm that one percent that likes to put him in his place. I'm that one percent who can get away with saying no to him and live to tell the tale. For some reason he accepts, even encourages disobedience in me. I think he likes the challenge of trying to bend me to his will. Sometimes I let him. Sometimes I have no choice. Sometimes I hold firm and watch him walk away defeat, a small smile tugging at his lips. And sometimes we shake on it, call it a draw and go out for pancakes. Whichever way plays out, it's always been fun.
Until now.
This latest request of his has got me twisted into so many knots that I can't even feel my toes. I know they're down there, but damned if I can feel them. And being the smug bastard that he is, he knows. Son of a bitch. This is going to be one of those times where I have no choice. The only way out of this nice little corner he's backed me into is a simple three letter word. Never mind that I had different plans. Never mind that I swore up and down that I'd never go down this road again. I'm going to have to say yes, because the alternative doesn't bear thinking about.
I suppose it won't be so bad. I do love him. And living the rest of my life without him in it is unfathomable. He knows this too. But at least he hasn't just assumed that I'll do it. I like that he's waiting for my reply. I like that although he knows what my answer will be, he still looks so nervous. Ya gotta love this man.
Will I marry him?
There really is no choice.
"Yes."
End