Title: Sweet Secrets
Author: Trialia
Rating: G (fluffy as a bunny, too)
Summary: Prelude to what, exactly? Catherine lets Sara in on the 'something revealing' Gil told her at the end of 'Slaves of Las Vegas', and she acts on it.
Author's Notes: My very first fic in the fandom, and true to form, it's a very short one-shot. Unbeta'd and only revised about three times. I wrote most of this during class, in fact… Burked, this one's for you, for all your help. I hope you enjoy it.
---
"You're kidding. Grissom?"
"Grissom," a smirking Catherine confirmed, pulling a bottle out of her locker and tossing it across the room to Sara, who caught the lob easily, one eyebrow raised.
"And you know this… how, exactly?"
"He told me yesterday," the senior CSI answered, shoving the metal door closed on her possessions and shouldering her bag. "I told him he should be telling me something revealing, and he told me… that."
Sara's eyes widened. "He told you that he… he just… volunteered that?" - I would never have guessed. –
"Uh-huh," Catherine replied. "You better get on out if you want to catch him while he's still in the office. I think he was finishing up."
Sara frowned momentarily. "Wait just a minute. Why are you doing this for me?"
I could have said 'because I want him to be happy', or something cliché like that. Instead I decided to be totally oblique.
"To give you a chance. Now, get going."
Sara tipped her head to one side, birdlike, and smiled. "Okay, I'm moving!" Shrugging into her jacket, she moved to the door, depressing the handle. Before she left, she glanced back over her shoulder.
"Hey, Catherine?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks." - I have no idea why you're doing this, but I'm beginning to hope it will work. –
Catherine grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Anytime, Sara, but you owe me for that," gesturing to the bottle.
"Yeah." Sara smiled, shoving the bottle down into her pocket as she made her exit.
---
His head was bent over that night's closed case files as she pushed his office door slightly further open.
"Grissom?" Her voice was hushed, dark eyes averted in a sudden wave of shyness.
He lifted his face to look up at her. "Shift's over, Sara," he told her softly, shuffling the files into a neater pile.
"How come you're still here, then?" Her question was not sharp.
His only reply was a sigh, and he ran his fingers wearily through the tangle of salt-and-pepper curls above his forehead. - I wanted to kiss him, then; to hold him close, be his cradle and his shield. - She stepped closer to his desk, kicking the door lightly closed. The lock didn't catch, but that didn't matter.
"Got something for you," she stated, with all appearance of casualness. She drew the bottle from her pocket, slowly, reaching to place it on top of the files on which he had been working. "Catherine told me what you said. She seemed to think you might be serious. Were you?" She still couldn't meet his eyes – not yet – and her question was barely audible.
"Pardon?" he asked quietly. He was going to have to do something about this someday. /
"Were you?" she repeated more clearly, the chocolate of her gaze finally making the flicking movement up to connect with his.
He drew a deep breath. "Yes," he told her, his voice trembling only slightly. "Thank you, Sara." He got up from his desk, coming around it to meet her, and he enfolded her in a hug for a moment – just a moment – before he let go. - You are so important to me. -
She coughed somewhat shyly, and the corners of her mouth twisted in that familiar half-smile.
"Anytime," she said, still in an undertone. "Just don't get it all over your desk, or they'll wonder what's been going on in here."