Beware of Geeks Bearing Presents
Summary: A sequel to Poetic Injustice. A bit of fluff – Sara and Grissom want to repair their friendship. Greg wants Sara. Ecklie wants the Red Creeper. Catherine wants a night off. And a mystery man from Sara's past is back.
Rating: PG to be on the safe side.
A/N: Probably a good idea to read Poetic Injustice first, but I think you can follow this story if you don't. Spoilers for Unfriendly Skies. Thanks to Burked and Ann for beta-ing this chapter.
Disclaimer: If I had even a fraction of a percent of the rights to CSI would I be writing fan fiction? Well, yeah, probably, but that doesn't change the fact I own nothing to do with the show.
Chapter 11
Grissom woke to the shrill sound of an alarm and a bare arm flapping over him to attack the source of the noise. A sleepy Sara, smiling sappily, slowly stretched satiatedly and snuggled against the somnolescent sternum of her sagacious sensual sexual sidekick.
Letting out a contented sigh, he smiled at the sight before him, positive he'd never seen her look more beautiful. Last night had been an incredible experience. For him, anyway. He hoped Sara felt the same. He licked his lips nervously, then began running his fingers through her hair.
"So, are we going to need a lot of practice?" he asked tentatively.
"Oh, yeah."
Grissom closed his eyes at the immediate, if drowsy, response. He had tried to make sure she enjoyed it, but his own nervousness had hindered the situation. At first, he'd been hesitant, then she literally took matters in her own hands. Hopefully, she'd give him the chance to correct the situation.
"I'm sorry, Sara," he said, wrapping his arm around her apologetically.
When his solemn tone made it through her sleep-addled brain, she let out a long groan. Crossing her arms over his chest, Sara rested her chin on her fists and let out a yawn before giving him a smile.
"In hindsight, that wasn't the wisest thing to tell you."
"It's the truth, isn't it?"
"The truth," she said with another yawn, "sorry. The truth is you have to be very careful what you ask me before I've had my first cup of coffee. I'm very open to suggestions when I first wake up."
"Really?" he asked curiously, earning him a playful slap on the chest.
"I didn't tell you that so you could take advantage of it!" Sara exclaimed before softening her tone. "The truth is, I want us to practice a lot, but you don't need it."
"Honestly?"
"Yes," Sara replied truthfully. While last night's encounter wouldn't go down in the record books, it had been very satisfying, especially given the awkwardness of the cast, and his own nervousness.
"You weren't disappointed?"
"You don't trust me? Did I sound disappointed last night?"
"You might have been trying to spare my feelings," Grissom pointed out.
"I wasn't. Everything was fine," Sara told him. "Very fine."
"But you've had better."
"I didn't say that."
"Nor are you denying it."
"Grissom …" she said, exhaling slowly as she shook her head at him. His concern was touching, if more than a little vexing. Sara had the urge to either kiss him or strangle him; she briefly considered doing both, but decided that would remind him too much of Lady Heather. She settled on a smile.
"I admit it – I'm over-organized. I sort my socks. I write in shorthand. But I don't have a sexual encounter database."
"So, you have had better," he said, laying his free arm over his eyes.
"I'm not having this conversation," she said, sinking her head back against this shoulder.
"I'll take that as a yes," he said, his dejection clear.
"All right, yes," she said in exasperation. If he needed to hear the truth, then she'd tell him. "Last night wasn't the absolute best I ever had, but you're damn near the top of the list. You have nothing to worry about."
"How many other…"
"You're not going to ask that," she warned, tempering her response by tracing her fingers over his chest.
"Being near the top of a list of three is a lot different than being near the top of a list of 50," he said, laying his hand over top of hers.
Sara lifted her head off of his shoulder, but her rebuke died when she saw his expression. It was enough to make her heart flutter. He really was concerned. Letting out a sigh, she tried to reassure him. "More than three and a lot less than 50."
"Was Fuller better?"
"No!" she growled, resting her head on his chest. "He was overrated. How many times do I have to tell you?"
"That paramedic then?"
Sara opened one eye to glare at him. He had to bring him into this. As much as she hated to admit it, Hank had been a better lover, but in every other way he was a jerk. "Well, he had a lot more opportunities to practice, didn't he?"
Realizing he'd broached a sensitive subject, Grissom laid a gentle kiss on her head as he rubbed his hand across her back. "I don't want to disappoint you. I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy."
"You didn't," she insisted. "I am. And you do."
"Even if I'm not the best you've had."
"It wasn't that much better. And you're definitely the best-equipped," she said. It wasn't that important to her, but as she suspected, the comment garnered a mild chest puff. "Besides, this … your concern … that means more to me. You're the only guy who ever worried whether I was satisfied."
"You've been shortchanged."
"Why?"
"If they really cared about you, they would have cared whether you were pleased."
Sara lifted her head up to watch him with a bemused expression, wondering if he realized what he'd said. "You seem to … care … a lot about my pleasure."
Grissom returned the smile as he moved to cup her cheek. "More than I have words to describe."
His previously puffed chest deflated with an audible huff when Sara levered herself up to retrieve the alarm clock. "What time is it?"
"Huh?" he asked, distracted by the view her new position offered him.
"I have time before I have to head to court," she said, grinning suggestively as she moved over him. "I … care … about your pleasure, too."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"What did you do to my office?"
Grissom watched as Catherine dropped the stack of folders onto his desk and stalked angrily to the doorway. Some of the papers spilled to the floor, joining an assortment of their compatriots. His shelves were catty-cornered, one chair was broken and an odd odor filled the room.
Sara was going to meet him at his townhouse after court, but until then he was unsure what to do. Since they'd slept during the night, he wasn't ready to head back to bed. Given the ramshackled appearance of both his office and his friend, Grissom wondered if his plan to catch up on paperwork was a bad decision.
"You … you … you," she sputtered.
"Me, me, me, what?" he asked, frowning as he took in the brownish-green splotches marring his floor and desktop. He slowly turned to his shelves expectantly. "Where are my grasshoppers?"
"All over the place. You left the top off of their habitat."
"Oh."
"Oh? We had the entire lab in here trying to catch the damned things before they could contaminate everything, and all you can say is 'oh'?"
"They're easy to catch," Grissom said, giving her a patient look over the top of his glasses.
"What?" Catherine asked, collapsing heavily in one of the chairs. She let out a disgusted sound when she remembered that that chair hadn't been cleaned up yet.
"They're easy to catch. Close the door, turn up the A/C and set a heating pad in the center of the room. They'll move to the warmth."
"You have got to be kidding me."
"No," he said, plucking a stray leg from his pencil cup in fascination. "I figured that out after I lost my snake. I used to let him out to eat the grasshoppers when they got loose. I never did find him, though."
"You can't be serious," Catherine said, raising an eyebrow when she noticed how relaxed he seemed. She figured the destruction of his office would rate a mild explosion. A sly smile formed when she decided he already had an explosion of sorts.
"I did find a skin he molted in the break room year before last," Grissom replied. He turned back, confused by her sudden knowing look. How did she draw these conclusions?
Catherine's response was delayed by the sound of footsteps behind her. Turning around, she was curious to see Ecklie walking in. "Taking up interior decorating, Gil? You're not very good at it."
"You taking up comedy?" Grissom replied. "You're…"
"Grasshoppers tried to make a break for it last night," Catherine interjected.
"Why didn't you just call Gil in to take care of it?"
"It was my night off."
"Were you in the middle of something you didn't want interrupted?"
If her friend's frown wasn't enough of a clue, Ecklie's laugh as he left the room was all Catherine needed to figure out that the day shift supervisor had his suspicions about Grissom and Sara's relationship. That wasn't going to be good.
"Don't do anything stupid," she advised him as she got up to leave.
"What about my office?"
"Have your snake fix it."
"Catherine!"
"I'll take care of it tonight. I'm going home."
Grissom took his glasses off as he considered the situation. Catherine was angry with him. He wanted to do something nice for Sara. Ecklie needed to be taken care off. Putting his glasses back on, he picked up the phone and brushed grasshopper guts from it as he searched his Rolodex.
"Is Paul there? This is Gil Grissom. …. Paul, hi. I need a rush order."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Ecklie smiled evilly as he headed towards his office. Grissom's panicked look when he grilled him about his activities last night was all the verification he needed that he and Sidle were an item.
Settling behind his pristine desk, Ecklie laughed at the thought of Grissom worrying over the possibility that knowledge of his affair would become public knowledge. Did he actually think he'd get in trouble over that?
The lab management had been willing to overlook the fact that his CSI Brown's troubles had gotten Holly Gribbs killed and put an innocent man in the hospital. Stokes had slept with a prostitute, and his comments to the press caused a pair of serial killers to nearly escape. Willows – well, all her screw-ups should have landed her on the unemployment line.
An affair between two consenting adults, especially one they'd managed to keep under wraps, was nothing compared to those events. The only action Cavallo was likely to take would be to warn them to keep it private – an unnecessary precaution for the two most socially reclusive people in the lab.
Of course, Grissom didn't know this. And Grissom's guilty conscience was all he needed to get the formula for Red Creeper.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"How did court go?" Grissom asked as he welcomed Sara into his townhouse.
"Fine," she said, giving him a brief kiss once the door was closed. She followed him into the living room, cocking her head at the terrarium she saw sitting on his dining room table. Other bug-related supplies poked out of a shopping bag beside it.
"I'm getting ready to set up a new habitat."
"How did you get it in the house?"
"My neighbor, Mrs. Flanagan, carried it in for me," Grissom groused as he flopped down on the couch.
"What's wrong with your neighbor being neighborly?" she teased, knowing he hated the restrictions crutches put on him.
"She's 72 years old."
Sara chuckled as she settled on the couch beside him, slipping her dress shoes off before tucking her legs under her. She reached over to trail her fingers over his neck slowly, eventually bringing a smile to Grissom's face.
"You look nice," Grissom said as he ran a hand over her bare knees.
"Thanks," she replied softly. Her appreciation of his attention was cut short when she spied a manila folder tucked beside the cushion. "What were you working on?"
It was Grissom's turn to chuckle as she leaned over him to grab it. He usually admired her dedication to the job, but right now he had other admirations on his mind. "Our café shooting? One of the guns was used in the gang murder."
"Sweet. I'll go home and change, and I can get right to work on this."
"No," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her back down on his lap. He wrapped one arm around her waist when she tried to get up and used the other to pull the folder from her hand. "No."
"We have a murder to work."
"And it'll still be there tonight. You need to sleep."
"I slept last night. I won't need to sleep again for a long time."
"Uh-uh."
"Grissom," she said in amusement, wiggling against him to added effect as she made a grab for the folder.
"As your paramour, I have to right – no, the obligation – to make sure you take care of yourself," he said with a smirk.
"You're not going to work on this?"
"Not right now. I'm going to work on my new hobby."
"Your new bugs?"
"Nope. Making sure you spend enough time in bed."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
TBC
