Title: In Vino Veritas
Summary: A costume party and Pliny the Elder [Short OOC GS Fluff]
Pairings: Grissom/Sara
Rating: PG 13
Category: Is diabetes-inducing fluff a category?
Author's Notes: Y'all can blame this on AngelWings8, who brainwashed me. To quote her- "You've been writing a lot of depressing angst lately. Not that I mind--it's just, smiles! Good! Happy! Yay! Is that at all comprehendible?" And somehow that inspired this icky fluff. I'm easily impressionable, I swear. G
The quote comes from a poem by Ben Jonson, but for the life of me I can't remember which one.
Disclaimer: I own CSI, and I'm making a profit. And to quote my mother, "I have some swamp land for sale." Look, I borrow these characters, maim them beyond recognition and return them in time for the good writers to check out. Maybe if I stop writing they'll write more often…. Not likely.
Oh, and just for the record. There's a waiver you have to sign, stating that the author cannot be held responsible for anybody going into sugar shock. There are pens on the way in.
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This had been an incredibly bad idea, Gil Grissom decided as he looked around the room. He still couldn't figure out how Catherine had talked him into coming in the first place- a costume party to celebrate Halloween was hardly of any interest to him. But she had railroaded him into it, much the way she railroaded him into a lot of things. She was a decidedly bad influence.
In a far corner, Catherine and her date danced a little closer than Grissom would have ever felt comfortable with in public. Dressed as a devil, she hardly earned points for originality. But she looked good, and she was having a good time. This boyfriend, Chris… he was good for her. Grissom was glad; after Eddie, Catherine deserved someone.
He took a mental inventory of the rest of the night shift. Neither Cowboy Nick or Mad Doctor Greg were original; Warrick's baby costume took balls, if not an intervening common sense. Archie and his girlfriend were dressed in some ridiculous costumes he identified as Power Rangers- something he had left over from another party his sister had thrown. A swami turned out to be Jaqui. Even Hodges had joined in the fun as a pirate. What Hodges was doing at a party in the first place was beyond him; Catherine's actions were not to be explained by any mere mortal.
From across the room he saw Sara enter. Her costume was not something meant to aid a man in keeping his sanity- or libido- in check. A Roman goddess. And what a goddess she was. Always a beautiful woman, she had regained lost weight in the last few months; her enthusiasm and the sparkle in her eye had both returned after a well-earned vacation. She was vivacious once more. And the costume…. The costume provided a tantalizing view of her long neck. It clung to her breasts in a way that left little to the imagination. The short toga showed off her long legs in a way that they should never been displayed. Words unbidden sprung to his mind, and for the first time in a long time he knew what to say.
-::-
"She is Venus when she smiles," Sara heard a quiet voice recite.
Startled, she turned around to face the man who had intruded on her peaceful walk in Catherine's backyard. When she saw who it was, she realized she should have been able to identify the speaker; than again, she had never heard that husky tone before.
"But Juno when she walks," Grissom continued, moving closer as Sara struggled to find her voice. "And Minerva when she talks."
"Grissom?" she managed.
"I like your costume."
She let out a strangled laugh. "Thanks. I'd return the compliment, but you don't have one."
"Sure I do. I'm a werewolf."
"A werewolf, huh?" she said, her tone teasing.
"It's not a full moon," he replied, his explanation being greeted with an appreciative chuckle.
"That would explain it."
For a moment, nothing more was said. The silence was a combination of awkward and appreciative awe. She looked into his eyes, darkened by some passion; he didn't shy from her scrutiny, but returned it with equal fervor.
"Are you drunk?" she finally asked.
"I've had a few glasses, but I'm not drunk."
"You're not sober either."
"No," he admitted. "Not completely. In vino veritas, as they say."
"Truth comes out in the wine," translated Sara, hanging her head. The golden wreath on her head slipped a little; he reached up and readjusted it.
"Did you come with anyone?"
"No."
"Are you leaving with anyone?" he asked. The hand he ran up and down her arm left no doubt about what he meant.
"Depends on who's asking."
"I am."
She had to have known it was coming, but she still looked surprised. There was no way he was serious. Was there? She wouldn't rest until she knew, so she crossed the small gap between then and kissed him softly. His response left no misgivings in her mind about his sincerity. He initiated the deeper exploration of her mouth. When she finally pulled back she was breathless.
"So, what made you realize what 'to do about this'?" she asked.
"Divine intervention," he murmured against her lips. "Divine intervention."
……
Remember the waiver? Good.