No Room To Wiggle
Summary: Grissom tricked Sara into going to a conference with him. What's going to happen now that she knows the truth?
A/N: A follow up to my Improve Challenge short story, Wiggle Room, that one of my betas blackmailed me into writing. A few sprinkled spoilers for season four. Thanks to Burked for her beta skills. All errors are mine.
Rating: PG-13 - may change later.
Disclaimer: If I haven't figured out a way to own CSI by now, I'm never going to.

Note: This is the ffnet-safe version of the story. If there's any interest, I can include the "deleted scenes"on my web site later.

Chapter 9

The loud crash woke Grissom from his slumber. One eye cracked opened. The flashing light and rumbling echoes indicated the storm was back, hitting the city for another night. Waking slowly, he noted the other side of the bed was cold.

It took a moment to remember why that was a problem.

Sitting up quickly, he turned on the bedside lamp and scanned the room. The evidence from their earlier trysts was plain to see. Rubbing his hand over his hair, Grissom looked for his shorts, hoping that there was a logical reason for Sara's absence. He noted that her clothes were still spread across the room, so she hadn't completely abandoned him.

Walking into the common area of the suite, he saw her standing in front of the large window. She'd dressed in her pajamas, and a towel was draped over her shoulders. Grissom started to relax until a flash of lightning illuminated the room, and he caught her wiping her hand over her cheek.

"Sara?" he asked nervously, turning on a lamp. A million reasons why she'd be crying were running through his mind, and none of them struck him as positive.

"Hey."

"What's wrong?" he whispered, waiting for her to answer, but she only shook her head. "Did I hurt…"

"No!" Sara answered quickly, wrapping her arms around him reassuringly. She exhaled slowly, resting her head on his shoulder, gladly soaking in the warmth from his body.

Sara knew the difference between making love and sex, but in a way, she felt like it was the first time she'd been made love to. While hurried, Grissom had been reverent in the way he watched her, in the way he touched her. Afterwards, he'd been especially tender, taking his time to learn all her sensitive spots.

"Did I do something wrong?"

She pulled back, shaking her head slightly. "No. Trust me – it was great."

"You weren't rushed?" he asked, running through his mental checklist.

"Uh, Grissom, I kinda remember initiating things. But I have to tell you, I never slept with a guy on a first date before," she admitted shyly.

"I didn't think you would," he admitted, still feeling a bit anxious. "Does that bother you?"

"Not really. It's not like we just met. We've known each other for years, even if we haven't been dating."

"How many meals have we had together?" Grissom asked suddenly.

"Why? You want to make them retroactive dates?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "What would you say if we did?"

"That you're a cheap date," she deadpanned. "Okay, so it was us, Cath, Nick, Warrick, sometimes Brass and Greg. Were they really unique double dates, or do you have some sort of weird lifestyle preferences?"

"No, I don't," Grissom said, raising an eyebrow pointedly. "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

Sara rolled her shoulders. "It was just a bad dream."

Letting out a relieved huff, he rested his forehead against hers. "Want to talk about it?"

"It's nothing."

"It's enough to have you standing out here by yourself."

"It's silly," she said, shaking her head.

"You can talk to me," Grissom said, hoping his voice sounded encouraging and not petulant.

"Ugh. Okay, promise me you won't get angry. It was just a dumb dream."

"What?"

Sara took a deep breath, answering him quickly as she exhaled. "We were back in Vegas. The expense reports show we had the same room. The gang started teasing us about having to share a suite, and you…"

"Panicked?" he offered.

"I was going to say 'went ape shit'."

"First, I never understood that expression, and I prefer panicked," Grissom said with a chuckle, idly brushing his fingers through the curls framing her face. "Your hair is curling."

"It's the humidity. And I told you the dream was stupid …Hey! You're laughing. What gives?" she demanded.

Grissom shrugged. "Who am I to say anything? I'm still waiting to wake up myself. I can't believe this isn't a dream."

"Hmmm. I think I like your dreams better than mine," Sara purred, moving to nuzzle his neck, but Grissom stopped her, pointing at her sheep-covered pajamas and shaking his head.

"Those are too disturbing."

It was Sara's turn to laugh. "You're ovinephobic. Or is that even its own subset of zoophobia?"

"Sheep are fine in fields. Or on plates. But it's hard to think of you amorously when you're covered in little, ribbon-wearing, playing sheep."

"So, now I know what to wear when I need some rest," she said with a broad grin.

"I am a forensics expert. I can make those sheep disappear," Grissom warned, but it became more of a whimper as she started nibbling his earlobe.

"You wouldn't dare. I can get other disturbing PJs before you find where I hid your racing roaches."

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, yeah. I would," Sara said, nodding her head in emphasis. "You don't want to start practical jokes on me, Grissom. Ask Nick what happened to him the first – and only – time he tried to pull one on me."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise, stepping back and taking her hands in his. "I have a feeling that's something I don't want to know about. What I do want is to go back to bed. And I want you to come with me."

"I think we're going to need to get some more practice in before I can guarantee that happening."

Grissom shook his head at the pun, but breaking into a smile at her faked naïve expression. "Those have to go first," he insisted, quickly deflocking her before carrying her back to bed.

"Grissom, we have to get up," Sara stated, rolling her eyes when he once again pulled her back down. The gesture was wasted, since he refused to open his eyes.

"Why?"

"Because it's morning. We're still on the schedule of the light dwellers. This is when they get out of bed," she said, resting her head on his chest.

"I don't want to."

Sara chuckled. It was easy to understand his reluctance. This would be the last day they had together before they had to head back to Vegas and their hectic lives there. But they also had to shower, pack and get their belongings in the rental car, check out of the hotel, spend a half-day at a conference, before a multiple-layover flight back to Nevada.

"It's the last day of the conference. You don't want to miss that," Sara pointed out as she wiggled out of his arms.

"They'll have other ones," Grissom said, slipping his arm around her again.

"We have to check out of the hotel."

He grunted. "Not for a few more hours."

Sara lifted her head from his chest and pulled out the heavy artillery. "If we don't get up, you know Bob will come looking for us."

Grissom opened a single eye, giving Sara an annoyed look.

"And you know he'll find a way to get in here."

With an audible groan, he finally let her go. "Spoilsport."

"He's your friend," Sara mentioned as she slipped out of bed and pulled on her T-shirt from the day before.

"Don't remind me," he half-groused. Grissom went around the room, searching for their clothing.

"I like him. Just not too often. Bob's a bit … boisterous. He did get us this suite."

"True," he admitted, turning to give her a smile.

"And we don't have much time to get packed!" she insisted, noticing his hungry stare as she walked half-naked around the room.

"We could skip breakfast…"

"I'm going to go take a shower, or we're going to have to deal with Bob walking in on us at a very bad time. And I don't want to be the subject of one of his 'funny' stories."

While she did that, Grissom straightened the bedspread and picked their clothes from the floor. It did little to disguise what had happened in his room. It was a silly thing, but the thought of the hotel maids discussing his involvement with Sara seemed a violation of their privacy, even though no one knew who they were.

He grabbed the scattered dishes from their dinner and moved them to the table in the living area of the suite. Back in the bedroom, he sorted their clothing out. After retrieving his outfit for the day, he emptied his dresser. He'd just finished repacking most of it when Sara returned.

"Your things are there," he said, nodding to the stack of clothing on the bed.

"Uh, I don't think I did this," she said sarcastically, holding up a pair of his ripped boxers when he looked at her. "Or this. Something I should know about?"

Grissom felt his face redden as he gathered his tattered shorts. "The counter. I kept getting snagged on it."

"And you're keeping them as a souvenir of the trip?" Sara asked with a happy grin.

"No. I didn't want the maids to find them in the trash and talk about what could have caused it," Grissom sighed as he looked at the bed. "Not that I think it's going to be a secret. Maybe you should leave your nonoxydil-9 for the next guest."

"Ugh. I was really trying not to think about that," she whined. "That is so much worse than unsanitary amusement rides."

Grissom gave her a contrite smile as he tossed the shorts into the bag with his dirty laundry. Gathering his clothes, he headed to the shower, frowning when he noted that Sara had already retrieved her nightclothes from the suite's living room area. He was certain he could have found a way to explain how the airline could have lost just one set of clothing from their luggage.

By the time he got out, Sara had finished the packing, moved both of their bags into the hallway by the front door, emptied the fridge of the last of the fruit, which she was stashing away in her purse.

"I guess we're ready to go," he said, heading to the bedroom to gather up his roaches. Moving back, he went to retrieve the luggage, but Sara slipped her arms around him tightly. Holding the container with his bugs away from her, he returned the embrace, gently swaying their bodies.

"We'll make this work," Sara promised as she broke off the hug.

"I know," he replied, his bravado serving to cover his own insecurities.

"I like my private life to stay that way. I'm not going to tell everybody in the lab about us. You don't have to worry about that. And I won't tell them that story Bob told, about what happened with those sorority idiots."

"Thanks."

"I guess this is it," she sighed, helping to collect their belongings. "I know we'll be able to have time together back in Vegas, but this was nice. Not having any calls to go to."

"No interruptions."

"Having time away from everything."

"This is an annual event," Grissom pointed out with a trace of a smile.

"Oh, yeah. No one would notice that we both go to entomological conferences at the same time. Never in a building full of investigators."

"We'll make this work," he parroted, giving her a last, drawn out kiss.

Sara expected the morning to pass by slowly, knowing it would be another day before she and Grissom could be alone again, but she took comfort in the occasional, shy glances he directed her way as they sat through the remaining talks.

Things went well until the finals for the roach races. Grissom's bugs – who had earlier broken their personal best times – refused to budge from the starting line.

"What happened? They were doing so well," he said in astonishment.

Sara moved to his side while he put them back into their traveling containers. "They did get traumatized."

"What do you mean?"

"You left them out on the dresser last night. They watched us. Can be very distressing to the young."

Grissom gave her a mock-scowl. "Even if I were to anthropomorphize their performance, blaming it on what they saw, it doesn't mean that was the reason."

"And you can't exactly use it as an excuse to your buddies," she said, smiling as Bob stepped up. She let out a mild yelp when she swept her off her feet and into a bone-crushing hug.

"Down, Bob! We've had this talk before," she said with a laugh, rolling her eyes when he pecked her cheek avuncularly.

"Doesn't Gil like to share?" he asked softly, his great, bushy eyebrows waggling at her stunned expression. "Oh, relax. I'm just kidding. But he's not a bad guy … if you're looking."

"Thanks, Bob," Sara answered dryly, smiling when Cheryl stormed over, swatting her husband over the head.

"Stop playing matchmaker. You're terrible at it," she sighed before turning to Sara. "I won't tell you what he did to our neighbor."

"That wasn't my fault!"

Grissom intercepted them before they launched into another exchange, pointing out they had to catch a flight. After quick exchanges of goodbyes, Sara and Grissom headed to the hotel garage. Pulling into traffic, he briefly glanced her way. "When we get back to Vegas, I'll drop you off at the lab so you can get your car. I'll have to check my messages at least."

"That's okay. I want to see what happened on my case."

"Would you like to come over for a late dinner? The meal they'll serve us won't be that good. You don't have to – I know there are things you'll need to do. Water the plants, get the mail, things like that," he added quickly.

"That won't take long. The post office is holding my mail for me, and I gave the plants a long soak before I left."

"Okay."

"So, yeah, I'd like to come over for dinner."

"Good," he said with a pleased smile. "I don't want to monopolize all your free time. Well, yes, I do, but I won't push."

"Same here," she grinned at him. "You know, we have to get back into the night shift. I wasn't planning on going to bed until tomorrow morning. Well, going to sleep, anyway. If you want to do something after dinner, I'm game, but if you want time to bond with your bugs…"

"How about a movie? I understand I've been a cheap date," Grissom said.

"A movie would be nice."

They made their plans on the way to the airport, spending the time questioning the other about their preferences in movies, music and novels. After returning the rental car, they waited patiently to board their plane.

Sara was grinning at him, when she suddenly looked up in shock. Grissom turned around, letting out a groan when he saw the redheaded boy taking a seat in the waiting area. Then another one. And then a third one.

They turned to stare at each other, both of them shrugging. Sara was the first to speak. "Triplets?"

"It looks that way," he said, looking back at them. All together and up close, it was possible to see slight variations in the three boys' appearances.

"I don't know which is worse," Sara mused. "That we keep running into him, or that there's three of him."

"It is disturbing."

"Worse than my pajamas?" she teased.

"Different category of disturbing."

All three of the boys looked up at the same time, their heads swiveling to face the criminalists. All three waved at them simultaneously.

"We're going to be on the same plane with them for hours," Grissom pointed out in mild horror. "This is going to be a trip to remember."

Sara turned around, giving him a quick wink. "Oh, this is one trip I won't forget."